


Just My Luck

by TheGirlWhoRemembers



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Spies/Secret Agents, Angst, Bozer's Cooking, Communication Issues, Domestic, Domestic MacGyverisms, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Mac and Bozer are BFFs, Mac and Jack Bromance, Misunderstandings, Plus Bozer, Rom-Com Tropes, Rom-com, Romance, Second Chances, Slow Build, Team as Family, Texting, Tropes, Wise Jack, Wrong number, macgyverisms, meet cute, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWhoRemembers/pseuds/TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: FBI colleagues and sworn enemies Riley and Bozer are forced by their boss Matty to work together.Meanwhile, Riley’s mom bumps into her ex-boyfriend Jack at the supermarket (literally) and Bozer’s roommate and BFF Mac texts a wrong number and somehow befriends ‘Doc’.Or, another rom-com AU that no-one asked for.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this is a not-secret-agents!AU. It’s also fluffy, silly, full of tropes, Team-as-Family-feels, Mac and Jack plus Bozer bromance and a fair bit (in my opinion) of deep emotional stuff. If you sometimes (like me) wish that the team, as amazing as what they do is, were just a happy family who don’t suffer betrayal/almost die/in general suffer, you will probably like this! The following, I promise, aren’t spoilers - this has a tooth-rottingly-sweet happy ending and Murdoc does not make an appearance (if anybody can successfully put a reasonably in-character Murdoc into a rom-com!AU, massive kudos to you…).
> 
> The title comes from the rom-com of the same name, but there isn’t really any plot commonality between this story and the film.

**MACGYVER FAMILY RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘Daddy, while we’re waiting for the cookies to bake, can you tell me a story? _Please_? Pretty please with sugar and paperclips and duct tape on top?’

His four-year-old daughter Maria tucked a lock of her dirty blonde hair (which Mac was quite sure would darken as she got older) back behind her ear, then clasped her hands together and looked up at him with her light brown eyes wide and pleading and _adorable_. They could only be described as puppy-dog eyes.

(Mac was not very resistant to Maria’s puppy-dog eyes. In fact, he was barely resistant to them at all.)

(He was, at least, more resistant than Jack.)

(They were just lucky that she was a pretty mature and sensible four year old, so used her great powers responsibly.)

(Mostly.)

(God help them if she ever asked for a pony.)

From the other end of the kitchen, Nick, Mac’s seven year old, looked up from where he was carefully disassembling one of the family’s spare toasters using his dad’s Swiss Army knife, determined to both figure out how it worked and convert it into an alien-fighting toaster for the movie he was making with Hedy, Bozer and Riley’s seven-and-a-half year old. He grinned enthusiastically, showing off the gap in his teeth.

(Nick looked like a carbon copy of Mac, except for the fact that he clearly had his mother’s nose, so that had led to his Uncle Bozer calling him Mini-Mac, a nickname that the little boy, who idolized his dad, loved.)

Both of Mac’s kids adored his stories, particularly the ones that involved what Bozer and Jack had dubbed ‘MacGyverisms’, which given the kids’ interests and activities, were probably hereditary.

(Nick was disassembling a toaster. Enough said. After Maria had asked a whole series of questions as to why different people’s cookies and cookies from different bakeries were so different, he had decided to do an experiment with her, baking many different batches of chocolate-chip cookies with different ingredients and ratios of ingredients to work out what they did.)

(They had a lot of cookies. One hundred and forty-four cookies to be exact.)

(The whole family was coming over for a barbecue tonight, so Mac figured that today was the best day to do the cookie experiment, since then they probably wouldn’t be wasted.)

(Their family had gotten pretty big.)

Mac, too, grinned, sitting down on a stool at the kitchen’s peninsula, picking Maria up and setting her down on one too, as Nick put down Mac’s Swiss Army knife and took a seat as well, both kids very keen for story-time, Maria clapping her hands together happily.

‘How about I tell you the story of how I met your mom?’ He paused and his grin grew more wry, and he leaned down and stage-whispered to his kids conspiratorially. ‘It’s also the story of how Auntie Riley and Uncle Bozer fell in love, and the story of how Grandpa Jack and Grandma Diane found each other again.’

Nick made a face of disgust.

‘It’s a love story? _Eww_!’

Mac chuckled, then smiled reassuringly.

‘Well, it _is_ a love story, but not just the icky kissing kind, I promise.’ Nick looked mollified, mostly. He knew his dad never broke his promises, after all, and he’d promised that he wouldn’t either. Mac’s smile grew more wry and a bit more reminiscent as he continued. ‘And it’s also the story of a whole string of _really_ improbable coincidences…’


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now onto the story proper!

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

Bozer, the best forensic accountant in all of LA (at least, that’s what his business card said…well, it _would_ if he _had_ a business card, your standard FBI tech didn’t get one, unfortunately, unlike the field agents…), pulled his eyes away from his computer screen and reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone as it buzzed.

His boss, Matty, wanted him in her office. Stat.

Bozer immediately got up from his chair and headed towards Matty’s office.

It would _not_ do to keep Matty the Hun waiting.

* * *

Riley, who was eating lunch in the break room, put down her fork and pulled out her phone as it buzzed, quickly reading the text on it.

The white-hat put the lid back on her lunch, and shot Samantha Cage, FBI profiler and interrogation expert, and Riley’s closest friend, an apologetic look.

‘Matty wants me in her office, stat.’

Cage gave a wry little smile.

‘Well, you’d better hurry.’

Riley returned that wry smile as she stood.

‘Yeah, definitely. Catch you later, Cage.’

(The blonde woman had a bit of a thing about going by her surname while at work, even with Riley, who was the closest thing she had to a best friend.)

Cage nodded and kept eating her lunch, tuning her ears to the conversation between the two field agents from the D.C. office who’d followed a case all the way to the West Coast, Edwards and Ho, behind her.

They had a really _fascinating_ dynamic. They were clearly _far_ more than just partners.

(Cage was pretty sure that they were a long-term couple, with at least ten years together, and might also be secretly married.)

* * *

Riley suppressed a groan as she walked into Matty’s office, to find that the only other person in there was _Wilt Bozer._

Riley wasn’t close to many of her co-workers. Sure, she and Jillian Morgan (who went by Lil with her friends), another white-hat, were friendly, and Riley had taught the other woman more than a few tricks, and there was Cage, but overall she was a bit of a loner, and that suited her just fine.

Still, she got along alright with most of her colleagues, even if she knew that more than a few of the squeaky-clean, business-wear-only agents and techs kind of looked down on her, with her multiple piercings, cool, slightly-bad-girl clothing style and black-hat past.

(They were professional enough to keep it mostly professional. And Riley was used to it, had been stared at and whispered about in that way since she was a kid, and didn’t care about what most people thought.)

(What those who mattered to her thought was what she cared about.)

But Bozer was the exception.

She couldn’t stand him.

He couldn’t stand her either.

(That hadn’t always been so, but that was the current situation.)

Ignoring him, Riley sat down in one of the chairs in front of Matty’s desk, crossing her arms.

Hopefully, this assignment that they were both going to be put on (she knew that was what it had to be; why else would Matty summon them both to her office?) would be a short one.

* * *

Bozer sighed internally as Riley Davis walked into the room.

Great, he thought. Just _great._

Riley _hated_ him.

Given how she treated him, it was kind of mutual.

(It was very hard to _like_ somebody who treated you as if you were the scum of the Earth and ignored you as a result.)

(Even if it hadn’t always been like that. Even if it had once been the opposite.)

Bozer knew there was really only one reason why they were both here, and that was because they were going to be given an assignment that required them to work together.

He sighed again internally, frustration and annoyance and anger (some directed at himself), swirling through his mind.

Working together with someone who refused to speak to you was really, really hard.

(He’d never done it _personally_ , but he’d seen Mac have to work with Darlene Martin in chem class through the rest of Junior year after she’d shot his BFF down cold when he’d asked her to Prom.)

(It hadn’t been pretty.)

Hopefully, this was a short assignment.

* * *

Bozer and Riley were spared from having to sit there in uncomfortable silence for ages, because a moment later, Matty walked into the room, her tablet in hand and followed by her assistant.

‘…Get Bill from the CIA on the line, Andi, I’ll be with him in about twenty minutes, make him wait, it’ll soften him up…’

She turned away from her assistant, who hurried out the door to do as Matty told, and turned to Bozer and Riley with a little smile.

‘Riley, good work with the SecDef hack. Bozer, good job with catching the guy who was skimming money from FLETC.’ Matty tapped her tablet, and the big screen behind her came to life, showing a page of financial records. ‘In light of your good work, I’ve got a new assignment for both of you.’ She gestured to the big screen. ‘An unknown organization has burst onto the scene in the last three months and is laundering money for the Mafia, several terrorist organizations, the Chinese Triads, you name it. If they’re bad and they’ve got cash, these guys are washing it for them.’ Matty pointed to the single page of financial records on the screen. ‘This is all we’ve got on them. No name, no history, nothing else.’ She looked both of them square in the eye. ‘I’m putting you two on the case.’ Matty’s voice was firm, albeit encouraging in her own way as she continued. ‘You two are good, really good, at what you do. You’ve got a lot of promise. Really bright careers ahead of you.’ Her voice darkened a little, a hint of a threat in it. ‘You’ll be working very closely together, probably for a long time. There’ll be no problems, will there?’

Bozer and Riley glanced at each other, then turned back to Matty.

‘No…uh, I mean yes, ma’am.’

Bozer saluted, which made Matty just quirk an eyebrow at him (this was the FBI, not the Army), and Riley nodded.

‘We’re professionals, Matty.’

Matty gave a little smile that didn’t make her any less scary.

‘Good.’ She handed them each a very slim file, presumably containing that single page on the screen. ‘The organization’s going down.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…That was one time, Jack. _One time_. It only happened because I neglected to ask you how you like your steak, which I apologized for, _five times_ , and I’ve modified my steak-cooking algorithm. I promise I’ll cook it the way you like it this time-‘

‘I’m not taking any chances, brother! Subconscious bias! It’s a thing! Look it up!’

‘Jack, I _know_ what subconscious bias is. But my preference for medium-rare steaks is not going to lead to me subconsciously overcooking yours!’

Despite the day he’d had and the days he was sure he was going to have in future, Bozer smiled to himself as he opened the front door and stepped into his and Mac’s home, Jack and Mac’s unmistakeable bickering filtering through the open sliding door that led out onto the deck.

Bozer put down his keys and headed out to the deck to join the other two men, and without a word, he grabbed the salt and pepper resting by the grill and started seasoning the three steaks resting beside the shakers.

(They did this pretty often, the three of them eating dinner together and drinking beer, particularly on Friday nights like tonight. Jack definitely didn’t live with Mac and Bozer, but sometimes, it sure felt like it, with how much time he spent at their place.)

(Given what Mac and Jack had been through together while they were working together on a military taskforce doing really classified stuff that Bozer wasn’t allowed to know the details of in Afghanistan and Iraq, Bozer figured that they were bonded for life.)

(Bozer always wound up cooking the steaks when they had steak, as Jack refused to trust Mac with cooking his. Bozer also always wound up being the last one to get home for dinner when they did this on any day save a weekend; while they all got off work at the same time, Mac and Jack’s workplaces – JPL and Dalton Auto Repair respectively – were both in Pasadena, while Bozer had to commute from LA.)

‘Hey, Boze.’

‘How was work, man?’

Bozer made a face as he checked the temperature of the grill.

In response to that face, Jack leaned over and grabbed a beer out of Mac’s self-opening Esky, and handed it to the blonde, who opened it with his Swiss Army knife and handed it to Bozer.

Gratefully, Bozer smiled at both of them, then took a healthy swig from the bottle.

‘You know that hacker chick I work with who hates me?’

Jack and Mac both nodded. Jack didn’t even know said hacker chick’s name, but they were all quite aware of the saga between her and Bozer.

_Yes, saga is a very accurate description._

_It’s a really, really long story that started about a year and a half ago._

_It’s also not really my story to tell._

Bozer drank some more beer and tossed the steaks on the grill.

‘Well, we’re stuck working together. Just her and me. On the biggest case of our careers. For what’s probably gonna be months.’

‘ _Ouch,_ man.’

‘I’m sorry, Bozer.’

Jack patted Bozer’s back in sympathy, while Mac winced sympathetically and patted his shoulder. Bozer glanced back at the steaks (Jack’s would need turning over soon; he liked his steak _really_ rare), and downed the rest of his beer.

Jack patted his back again.

‘Yeah, drink up, Boze. I reckon you need it.’

* * *

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

A little past 6 pm, Riley trudged up the stairs to her third-floor apartment, finally reaching it and pulling out her keys, just as her neighbour stepped out of her apartment, dressed for work in scrubs and with her light-brown hair tied and pinned back into a neat ponytail.

(She was an ER doctor at Huntington in Pasadena.)

‘Hi, Riley.’

She smiled and waved. Riley, despite her long day, smiled back at the other young woman.

‘Hi, Beth.’

(They were on what Riley would call friendly terms; Beth had brought Riley a home-made apple pie in apology for all the racket and commotion the day after she’d moved in six weeks ago.)

(It’d been a _really_ good pie, and Riley really appreciated good home-made food – something she didn’t get much of, at least not anymore, since she was a terrible cook.)

Taking in Riley’s rather drained appearance, Beth tilted her head to the left a little, a sympathetic look appearing on her face.

‘Tough day at work?’

Riley just nodded.

‘Yeah. And I think the next couple of months are gonna be even worse.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Beth gave a slightly awkward shrug. ‘I hope it won’t be as bad as you think?’

Riley snorted.

‘Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.’ She raised a hand and waved, as Beth put her keys in her bag and headed for the stairs. ‘See you.’

‘Bye!’

Riley sighed internally and headed into her apartment.

Thank God it was Friday.

* * *

**SUPERMARKET**

**LA**

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Jack hummed _Enter Sandman_ to himself as he walked down the supermarket aisles (he didn’t usually shop in LA, since he lived in South Pasadena and worked in Pasadena, but he’d gone downtown to pick up some special parts for a 1976 Mustang fastback he was restoring for a client, so figured he might as well pick up groceries while he was at it). He reached out and grabbed two boxes of Honey-Nut Cheerios (Mac and Bozer had gotten him addicted to the little Os, even though his waistline probably wasn’t thanking him for it – Mac and Bozer, being twenty-six and twenty-eight respectively, didn’t have that problem, Mac especially – Jack and Bozer were in firm agreeance that the blonde needed some more meat on his bones, even if he was much stronger than his lean frame suggested, but Jack was starting to think that they could feed Mac bowls of lard and it wasn’t going to make much of a difference, given Mac’s love of running and crazy-fast metabolism).

He turned into the next aisle to grab chilli sauce (he’d used the last of his the other day, and it was unacceptable to have no chilli sauce at Chez Dalton, _absolutely unacceptable_ ), and found that they didn’t seem to have his usual brand. He pursed his lips and backed up a little, searching for that distinctive bottle, but unfortunately, he wasn’t paying enough attention to where he was going, and collided with another shopper.

‘Sorry!’

Jack reached out to steady the woman he’d knocked into, and the air was knocked entirely out of him as he looked into a very, very familiar face.

‘Diane…’

He hadn’t seen her for ten years. Not since he’d walked out on her and Riley that terrible night three days before he’d deployed again, when he’d…

Jack swallowed, as Diane stared right back at him, her eyes wide.

‘Jack Dalton.’

He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and offered up a smile.

‘That’s me.’

An also-familiar amused little smile appeared on her face, and her eyes flicked down to look at his Metallica T-shirt (one of ten, eleven if you counted the framed one), and raised an eyebrow.

‘Still a fan of Metallica, I see.’

Jack gave a little grin, holding his arms up to show off the T-shirt.

‘Nothing else matters.’ That pun made Diane shake her head, with a hint of fondness and exasperation. Not all too different from the head-shakes she’d directed at him all those years ago. Jack’s expression grew more serious. ‘Diane, I…I…’ He didn’t know what to say, where to possibly even _begin_. He wasn’t even sure if he _wanted_ to begin, to pull off that Band-Aid and open that can of worms. ‘I…’ He looked at her face, into her eyes, and the first thing that popped into his head slipped out. ‘You’re just as beautiful as you were ten years ago.’

He really hadn’t meant to say that, even if it was so very true.

Diane had always been a very beautiful woman, in more ways than one. Elegant and fierce and strong, with plenty of moxie, as his grandfather would have said, gave as good as she got, and yet she was surprisingly gentle, too. Loving.

She’d reminded him more than a bit of a lioness, especially with how protective she’d been of Riley.

She stared at him for a moment, that rather familiar look in her eyes that seemed, to Jack, as if she were staring straight into his soul.

Then, she smiled that little smile again and shook her head again, with a bit more fondness and exasperation this time.

‘And you’ve still got that charm.’

Jack’s smile widened.

* * *

**CAFÉ A BLOCK FROM THE SUPERMARKET**

**LA**

* * *

‘…Seattle, eh?’

Diane nodded, taking another sip of her mocha. She and Riley had moved to Seattle when Riley was sixteen, after that night when Ellwood had shown up, angry and reeking of alcohol and she’d told Riley to barricade herself in her room, fearing what her ex might do to her daughter, fearing what he might do to her…and then Jack had shown up like their personal knight in shining armour, thrown the asshole around…and then proceeded to walk out of their lives, refusing to answer her many phone calls.

They’d come back to LA when Riley had gotten a scholarship to CalTech two years later, though, as there were nearly nineteen million people in Greater LA, she’d never, ever expected to run into him.

Diane gave a wry little smile.

‘It’s not sunny LA, but it has a great jazz scene.’

Jack’s smile widened as he sipped his own coffee. Diane adored jazz. Could sing it real well, too.

(He remembered a couple of moments very clearly, from those happy years when he and Diane and Riley had been _family_ , of the three of them singing. He might not have been able to hold a candle to either of them – Diane could sing in a jazz club, and Riley’s voice was more than pleasant – but he had plenty of enthusiasm.)

‘Did you grace any of the Seattle clubs with your voice? ‘Cause if you did, LA’s got heaps to be jealous about.’

Her smile widened a little, something sparkling in her eyes that made Jack brighten further.

* * *

An hour later (not that it _felt_ like an hour, time passing quickly as they chatted about nothing much, in a way that didn’t feel like nothing much to Jack, who was admittedly a little out of practice in the dating game, if he were honest), coffees long finished, Diane glanced down at her phone, noting the time.

She had to get going. Jack probably had to get going too.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, looking into Jack’s eyes again for a beat, as if she were looking deep inside him again. Then, she spoke.

‘I shop at that supermarket every Saturday, and I’m usually done by 3. I always stop for a coffee here afterwards…’

There was a hint of _something_ in her voice, and Jack knew that he hadn’t been wrong, not in the slightest, about that talking about nothing much not being nothing much.

He smiled up at her as she stood, a softer smile than his words would have suggested.

‘Well, coffee here’s real good, so I gotta come back.’

Diane returned that smile, and after looking at him a moment more, she walked out the door.

Jack sat there in the café for a couple minutes longer, lost in thought.

A really horrible break-up (that was entirely his fault) and ten years without seeing each other, it seemed, might not have managed to kill that something special between him and Diane.

Maybe, just maybe, they had that spark, still.

Or that spark could be rekindled between them, more accurately.

There was hope, perhaps.

She hadn’t given him her new phone number or anything like that.

But she’d given him a chance.

He wasn’t about to let it slip through his fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many cameos and references to canon and my other stories, I know…and a lot happened in that chapter, I know! The chapters get less choppy once the plot set-up is finished, I think. Any ideas on why Bozer and Riley hate each other? There’s a few references in this chapter, and here’s another hint: think canon.


	3. Chapter 2

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

‘…This could make my career if we take down the organization, but…’

Riley trailed off and drank from her wine glass. She and Sam were having a girls’ night in Riley’s apartment, as they did roughly every second Saturday.

Curled up on the other side of the couch, her own wine glass in hand, Sam continued her sentence for her.

‘You have to work with Bozer to do it.’

Riley made a frustrated noise and drank more wine.

‘He’s a great forensic accountant, but I can’t stand him.’

Sam studied her for a moment, sipping more wine at a more sedate pace than Riley, quite understandably.

‘But it wasn’t always like that.’

Riley eyed her for a moment over the top of her wine glass.

Sam had only joined the FBI nine months ago, coming directly to the LA office from D.C., followed by rumours about a discharge under less than ideal circumstances from the CIA and an immediate, shocking job offer and being saved from being sent to _prison_ by Matty, who knew Sam very well, though the _how_ was, according to all gossip, highly classified and way above their security clearances.

(Safe to say, Sam hadn’t been very popular among those same FBI employees who frowned upon Riley’s piercings and outfits and past. Not that she’d shown any signs of caring.)

(That was probably why they’d become friendly with each other in the first place, at least partially.)

She hadn’t been there when this _thing_ between Riley and Bozer had started, and it wasn’t as if there was heaps of gossip about it (it wasn’t the most interesting thing that had happened at their office, not nearly, and Riley hadn’t talked to anybody save her mom about it and thankfully, it seemed that Bozer had at least not gossiped either), but Sam was a master interrogator and essentially Riley’s best friend to boot, so of course she knew.

Riley nodded slowly.

‘Yeah. We used to be friends.’

* * *

**ONE AND A HALF YEARS AGO**

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

Riley chewed on her lunch at a table, all alone, in the break room.

She could practically _feel_ the judgement rolling off the two stuffed suits sitting at the next table, though she ignored them with a roll of her eyes.

Yeah, it sucked, eating lunch all alone and being judged on your first day of work at your new workplace, but it wasn’t as if she’d been Miss Popular back in D.C. either.

(She’d been sent there three years ago - literally, _sent_ ; she hadn’t been given much of a choice, it was go to D.C. and work for Matty at the FBI office there on probation or prison, and honestly, Patricia Thornton, the D.A who’d cut her that deal, had been very good to Riley; to this day, the hacker still had no idea how she’d pulled it off, though she suspected that Thornton somehow knew Matty, though _how_ was anyone’s guess. Then, when Matty had moved to the LA office, Riley had been one of a handful of employees who’d been offered positions to move with her. Riley had taken it, of course, wanting to be closer to her mother.)

She looked back down at her lunch, running through code in her head.

A moment later, her thoughts were interrupted.

‘Is this seat taken?’ Riley looked up to see a black guy standing opposite her, a friendly grin on his face. He was wearing a very loud and very stylish purple shirt and didn’t seem to care that the two stuffed suits were looking very judgemental about it and his desire to eat lunch at the same table as her. So she shook her head, and that grin widened, and he held out a hand for her to shake as he sat. ‘Welcome to the LA office! I’m Bozer, Wilt Bozer, but call me Bozer, everybody does, LA’s best forensic accountant!’

That was punctuated by him pretending to straighten an imaginary bow-tie, which made Riley smile.

‘I’m Riley, Riley Davis.’

* * *

‘Ugh…the rental market here is _crazy_.’ Riley gestured with frustration to her laptop screen. She was living with her mom right now, and though she loved her more than anyone else on the planet, she was also an adult and valued her independence. She _really_ didn’t want to keep living with her mom, but her hunt for an apartment was proving to be a Herculean task. Such a Herculean task that not only was she working on it for hours after work and on weekends, she was also devoting her lunch breaks to it. ‘Anything in my budget listed online goes _instantly_.’

Bozer made a noise of sympathy. He apparently lived with his BFF/childhood friend/ roommate/landlord, whom Riley was pretty sure charged him below market rent, so he definitely didn’t have her problem and probably never had, but he’d been happy to listen to her frustrated rants. Then, his brow furrowed.

‘Actually, I think I know how we can find you an apartment. What’s the number of the agent who has that last listing you were looking at?’

Riley turned her laptop screen to face Bozer, not really knowing what he was going to do, and Bozer pulled out his phone and dialled the number. He smirked and winked at Riley and started speaking in a very posh, slightly British accent.

‘Hello…my client Miss Riley Davis is looking for a one-bedroom apartment and was very interested in your listing in Highland Park, have you got any similar new listings? Oh, you do, splendid…yes, it would be lovely if you could hold that for her…yes, she is available to inspect it at 6 pm tonight…thank you.’

Bozer hung up and grinned at her.

‘Inspection, 6 pm tonight, a nice, updated one-bedroom in Highland Park.’

He held up his arms as if to say _who’s the man?_

Riley grinned.

‘Thanks, Bozer.’

He grinned right back.

‘Hey, what are friends for?’

* * *

‘Come on, try it!’ Bozer held out the box containing green cupcakes out to Riley, who still hesitated. Bozer continued. ‘All of my culinary experiments turn out delicious, promise. Well, except for the molecular gastronomy phase I went through a couple of years back, but Mac and I don’t talk about that…’

He held out the cupcakes (matcha with white chocolate and coconut centres) to Riley again, and Riley reached out, took one, and took a slightly-hesitant bite.

Her eyes widened and she took another larger bite, scarfing down the whole cupcake rather quickly.

‘Bozer, those…’ She pointed at the cupcakes. ‘Those are _amazing._ ’

Bozer grinned widely, looking very proud and offered the box to her again.

‘Have another one!’

* * *

Riley smiled to herself as she walked into the break room and walked over to what she now thought of as her and Bozer’s table (work allowing, they ate lunch together every day now). Bozer was already there, and as she put her hand on her chair to pull it out, he smirked up at her and waved.

‘Hello, future girlfriend.’

So many emotions came crashing through Riley all at once.

Confusion. Hurt. Betrayal. Denial. Anger. At him. At herself, for falling for it.

She turned around and stalked out of the break room without a word, expression darkening.

* * *

So _that’s_ what he’d been doing.

Bozer had _pretended_ to be her friend because he wanted to get her to go out with him, because he’d wanted to get into her pants. He’d been playing a long game, clearly.

And she’d fallen for it.

It hurt.

It really, really _hurt_ , because she’d really, really _liked_ him, had started opening up to him, which was hard for her.

She’d liked the fact that he was silly and a little weird and waxed lyrical about movies (and made them in his spare time) and had seen everything on serial killers ever made. She liked the fact that he agreed with her about the very unstylish stuffy FBI employees who wore nothing but business wear, was resoundingly fashionable himself and liked most of the video games that she did. She liked the fact that he was genuinely caring and smiled often and brought her little portions of whatever he’d cooked or baked to try, especially after he’d learned she was a terrible cook, and how he’d helped her find her apartment.

And he was cute.

Maybe she’d been kinda, sorta starting to _like_ him, in a non-platonic way.

Maybe.

She’d thought that Bozer was a genuinely great friend. A genuinely good person, who valued her just as she was.

(Maybe he could have been more one day.)

And maybe that’s why it’d hurt so much that he’d done that to her.

It turned out that maybe he wasn’t all that different from her horrible ex-boyfriends who said one thing but did another or thought of her just as a trinket to show off (look at my hot, bad-girl hacker girlfriend!), or her dad who’d kept crawling back, swearing he’d changed this time, only to reveal that he hadn’t, not at all, or even Jack, who’d been the closest thing to a father she’d ever had, then had left without even a goodbye.

In Riley’s mind, made wary and badly hurt from too many betrayals, this was just another one.

(She didn’t see how Bozer’s expression crumpled, confused, then hurt, then regretful.)

(She didn’t see how he’d gone home and poured his heart out to Mac and Jack that night, and been scolded by both of them – Jack especially, even if he didn’t even know her name – for letting his hopes about what he and Riley _could_ be get in the way of what they _were_ : great friends.)

(She _did_ see him keep trying to talk to her privately, but she never, ever gave him the chance, not wanting to let him try and ‘win her over’ again.)

(She was done with second chances. Her dad had had more than enough, a couple of her asshole exes had had more than enough, and look what they’d done with them.)

(She didn’t know that all Bozer wanted, all he really, really wanted, was to say _sorry_ , nothing else, because he felt he _had_ to, because he knew he’d wronged her. You apologized to people when you’d wronged them, to your friends especially.)

(But she saw Bozer’s own eyes harden and how he eventually started ignoring her too.)

(She thought he probably hated her for ‘rejecting’ him.)

(She could totally live with that.)

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

Sam regarded Riley as she finished speaking over the top of her wine glass, waiting a moment before speaking.

‘Well, that does explain why you’re not looking forward to working closely with him for the next few months.’ She paused, almost hesitating a moment (very unusual for her) before speaking again. ‘Riley, in my professional opinion, Bozer isn’t one of those creeps who feels that you owe him something just because he was nice to you.’ Bozer, to Sam, read like a guy who probably had some self-esteem issues, a somewhat inappropriate sense of humour, some creeper tendencies and a moderately defective brain-mouth filter. However, he also read like a genuinely good, genuinely caring guy, who really _had_ cared about Riley and probably still did, even if it was buried beneath layers of hurt and guilt and frustration, because he’d wanted very badly to apologize to her but she hadn’t even given him that chance and had probably been chewed out by one or two very close friends for his behaviour. For his mistake. ‘You’re stuck working with one another. In my professional opinion, I think you should let him say whatever he’s been wanting to say to you.’

Riley considered a moment, rubbing her left arm idly with her right hand, having put her wine glass down on the coffee table.

‘No offence, but I’m ignoring your professional advice, Sam.’

The profiler studied her friend a moment longer, then nodded in acceptance. A wry little smile appeared on her face as she stood and walked over to the kitchen, reaching into Riley’s freezer, which mostly contained frozen pizza and other frozen meals, pulling out a tub of ice cream. She grabbed two spoons, then made her way back over the couch.

‘And as your friend, my advice is to eat some ice cream.’

Riley smiled and took one of the spoons.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

On Sunday afternoon, Mac grinned to himself as he texted the video he’d made of his newly-completed spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine (it made pasta, in a very inefficient, albeit amusing, manner), showing off all of its best features with a detailed commentary regarding what it did and how he’d made it, to Valerie, the twelve-year-old girl in Mr Ericson’s 8th grade science class back at Mission City Junior High whom he’d met a few months ago when Mr Ericson had finally talked him into going back to Mission City to talk to his class.

He and Valerie had hit it off, to say the least (they’d had a very interesting chat about the superiority of hot techniques like welding over cold techniques like pinning and the robot she was building for the Science Fair with parts salvaged from DVD players, Mac’s second-favourite household appliance, after toasters), and now he mentored her as best as he could with regular phone calls, texts and Skype calls.

Unfortunately, Mac had to type Valerie’s number in manually, as not all of his contacts had ported over when he’d gotten a new phone the day before, and he hadn’t updated his contacts list yet.

Luckily, he’d memorized her number months ago (just like he’d memorized all of his contacts), so there wasn’t a problem there. He uploaded the video to the message and pressed the Send button.

_Then, it hit me._

_Oh, no._

Unluckily, Mac had mistyped the very last digit.

He swore to himself as the video was sent to a person who was very much not Valerie.

He’d just sent a random stranger a very, very weird video.

He sighed and shook himself out of it (Sure, he’d probably just weirded-out a stranger, but he supposed since he didn’t know this person and would almost-certainly never meet them, it’d be fine, especially since his face wasn’t in it. Besides, his video would probably just be ignored.), then typed in Valerie’s number properly, double-checked it and sent the video to her, before getting to work updating his contacts.

* * *

A little while later, after he’d spent a good half-hour lifting weights in his and Bozer’s garage/home gym (he mostly preferred running, but he’d already gone for a run today, and Bozer and Jack were always going on about how he should absolutely not skip arm day, since he never skipped leg day, with his almost-daily runs, so he figured he’d humour them every now and then, particularly since maintaining and building upper body strength was useful and good for his health), Mac walked back into the house, wiping some sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his MIT T-shirt.

He downed some more water and looked out with a rather proud grin at the spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine on the deck, then picked up his phone.

He had an unread text message.

From the wrong number he’d texted earlier.

Mac, with a bit of trepidation, opened the message.

**I’m not Valerie; you have the wrong number!**

**And I know this is really weird, I’m sorry in advance, but…that spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine is really, really cool! A really fine piece of engineering! Are you the guy who made it?**

This was extremely unexpected. He hadn’t expected a _positive_ response, not at all.

_I thought that the likelihood of this going viral as one of those ‘weird wrong number texts I got from a clearly crazy person’ was far higher…_

_And given how much content is on the internet nowadays, going viral is actually pretty unlikely, despite what many people seem to think._

Mac stared at his phone screen for a moment, then looked back out at the spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine, before replying.

(He couldn’t _not_ reply now.)

**Yeah, I’m the guy who made it. Thanks! (I’m glad this got sent to a fellow engineering fan!)**

Mac put his phone down and went to go clean himself up a bit and get changed.

He walked out of his room a few minutes later to find that he’d gotten a reply from the fellow engineering fan.

**As a doctor, I feel obliged to ask: did you electrocute yourself while making it?**

Mac smiled, a little sheepishly, and chuckled before replying.

**I did mechanical and electrical engineering at MIT, Doc. I work for JPL – I’m literally a rocket scientist. I know what I’m doing!**

He got a response almost immediately.

**You never said that you didn’t…and knowing what you’re doing doesn’t preclude injuries; we had a guy from JPL just last week! I hope you don’t show up in my ER one day…**

Mac chuckled again, shaking his head rather sheepishly. This ER doctor/engineering fan, who was presumably a local, _was_ right.

_If I’m being honest…I did electrocute myself while making my spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine._

_It was only a little bit, and it was only once._

_And clearly, I’m none the worse for the experience, so don’t worry._

_But it did happen, as I’m pretty sure Doc’s picked up on._

He typed out a reply.

**I’ll do my best to avoid that, Doc, don’t worry.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More canon references, and more references to some of my other works, because that’s what I do! And yes, now the whole game is afoot! 
> 
> I know Riley and Bozer have both messed up and are behaving rather irrationally – a little suspension of disbelief for the sake of the plot, please? I promise they’re not going to be so mean to each other for long!
> 
> A note regarding Ellwood in this AU: this was written after 2.08, Packing Peanuts + Fire, but before 2.09, CD-ROM + Hoagie Foil, and it is a rom-com AU with pretty much no darkness/angst. Thus, he’s just Riley’s deadbeat dad who has had far too many second chances and is no longer in her life at all. (I had no idea which way to take it, as I wasn’t sure which way they were going to take this storyline in canon at the time when I wrote this, and I also didn’t want to make it too complicated by bringing him in – in the end, this is a low-angst rom-com!) Though I am thinking about writing an AU, somewhat similar to this one, in which Bozer and Mac and possibly Cage wind up involved in the canon Ellwood plot too…
> 
> I also admit to being a bit sad that this fic hasn’t been very popular at all (guessing that it is the overall premise/theme)…I’m really proud of it, actually, in a lot of ways, more proud of it than the episode tags that I’ve been writing. For me, it’s a lot easier to write those episode tags, them being short little things, than long, continuous works like this. Ah well, at least if you’re reading this you like it, right? ;)


	4. Chapter 3

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

On Monday morning, Riley marched in and walked up to Bozer’s desk, having firmly resolved as to what she should do.

He looked up at her, and she spoke before he could say anything.

‘This is an important case, both in terms of taking down bad guys and for our careers. We’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t cooperate, and we told Matty we would, so…’ Riley held out her hand. 'Let’s promise to be professional.’

Bozer looked into her eyes (Riley thought he might look a little sad and maybe a bit hurt, but she figured that was his own fault, so didn’t feel too guilty about it), and nodded firmly, and shook her hand just as firmly.

‘I promise.’ He got up from his desk. ‘I’m gonna grab some coffee before we get stuck into it.’

Riley nodded in acknowledgement, setting her own things down on the desk next to Bozer’s, which Andi had informed her this morning was hers until they wrapped this case. She supposed it was convenient, though she wasn’t exactly going to enjoy sitting next to Bozer for what would probably be months.

She shrugged (nothing she could do about it) and pulled out her laptop and got to work.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, a takeaway cup of coffee was deposited on her desk.

She looked up, and Bozer, holding his own cup of coffee, shrugged and sat down at his own desk.

‘I was at the coffee shop already, and you’ll work faster with caffeine.’

And the faster they worked, the less time they’d have to be stuck with each other, as they both knew.

Riley nodded, warily eyeing her coffee as Bozer started examining that sole page of financial records. She opened the lid and sniffed it.

(She wasn’t worried about him poisoning it or drugging it; they were at work and they worked for the _FBI._ Besides, she knew Bozer wouldn’t actually _hurt_ her, even if they hated each other, he wasn’t _that_ type of asshole. She was more concerned that he’d gotten her the wrong type of coffee, possibly deliberately.)

It smelled amazing, exactly how she liked it. She took a sip. It tasted amazing too.

Just how she ordered it for herself.

A double shot, two sugars, pump of chocolate syrup.

Riley took another sip and furtively snuck a glance at Bozer.

He’d remembered how she liked her coffee.

She probably stared at him a moment too long, but engrossed in the financials, he didn’t notice.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

**48 days to build a supply probe, even a tumbler, is definitely insane (not sure we could actually do it!), so I agree with you that that’s probably why they never tested the effect of extreme g-forces on protein cubes with a simultaneous lateral vibration. If we had more time, we’d definitely think of that as a possibility, I promise!**

**And for the sake of the plot, Andy Weir had to have Iris fail…**

**I would have faith in you guys! NASA has a reputation for pulling off the improbable – Apollo 13’s square peg/round hole, for example (though that was Mission Control, right?)**

**And yes, that is true…**

**Yeah, that was Mission Control.**

**But it was an AMAZING improvisation.**

**(I’m a fan of improvising!)**

**I gathered that! (And I agree with you!)**

Mac smiled as he lounged on the couch after a long day at work, texting Doc (whose number was now saved in his contacts list, under Doc – not that it was really n _ecessary_ , since he’d memorized it already; it’d been especially easy as it was only one digit off of Valerie’s).

_Now I have the sudden, though not inexplicable, urge to watch Apollo 13…I haven’t seen it as many times as The Martian, after all…_

_We do have it on DVD somewhere…_

He got up off the couch and started rummaging through his and Bozer’s DVD collection.

* * *

**  
This is definitely a weird question – but did you watch Apollo 13 last night?**

Mac, eating breakfast after his run and a shower, ran a hand through his damp hair and chuckled, as Bozer looked up at him, a little bleary-eyed, from his own bowl of Honey-Nut Cheerios, a look on his face that said _what is it, bro?_ Mac just waved a hand to show that it didn’t really matter, and his still-sleepy roommate nodded and shovelled more breakfast cereal into his mouth. 

**Yeah, I did. You too, Doc?**

**Yes…They do say that great minds think alike… ;)**

**I like the way you think, Doc. ;)**

* * *

**  
I’ve had 18 Doogie Howser jokes this week…and it’s only Wednesday! They’re not even good ones! Most of them are really repetitive!**

Mac, who was cooking dinner, gave a little chuckle, shaking his head in sympathy all the while, as he read Doc’s text while waiting for the water for the spaghetti to start boiling.

It seemed that Doc was on the young side for a doctor, or at the very least, _looked_ very young to be a doctor.

He could empathize.

During his Army EOD days, he’d encountered more than a few soldiers who’d been shocked that this apparent ‘kid’ was going to safely disarm a bomb.

_I was definitely on the young side, and looked it too. Apparently, I’m young-looking; I don’t even look twenty-six now, according to Jack._

_I’m pretty sure my grandfather, if he were here, would tell me that one day, I’d be grateful for looking young for my age…and the day I was, would be the day I was officially old…_

**I’m sorry, Doc.**

**But hey, if we’re talking about bad jokes – a friend of mine (let’s call him Longhorn), tells some really, really terrible ones…**

**His puns...oh, God, his puns…I can’t stand his puns.**

* * *

‘Jack, are you okay?’

Mac swallowed his mouthful of poppyseed bagel and reached out and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. He’d come over that morning, like he always did on Saturdays, bearing coffee and bagels for breakfast (with two poppyseed ones in the bag for Mac), but he seemed _off._

Bozer nodded, agreeing with Mac’s sentiment.

‘You seem...twitchy, man. Nervous.’

Jack sighed and stared into his coffee cup for a moment, before draining the lot.

‘Do you want another one?’

Mac was already half-leaning towards his fully-automatic coffee maker, but Jack shook his head. He’d be having another coffee that afternoon. Mac nodded in acknowledgement, seeming more concerned (Jack pretty much never turned down more coffee), and put his hand back on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack sighed again, nibbling on his half-eaten bagel (he didn’t have much of an appetite, which was part of what concerned Mac and Bozer – it took _a lot_ to put Jack off his feed).

(Mac briefly considered offering Jack bacon; if he turned _that_ down, he’d have to take Jack to the ER, because then there’d be something really, really wrong with him.)

‘Last week, I went to a different supermarket than usual, and I ran into an ex-girlfriend.’ Jack paused for a moment, as Mac and Bozer exchanged a concerned, slightly-wide-eyed glance. ‘I dated her for about four years.’ He paused again, and Mac and Bozer exchanged another glance, Mac squeezing Jack’s shoulder gently as Bozer reached up to put his hand on Jack’s other shoulder. ‘And…and she had a daughter. I kinda took the girl under my wing, you know. Bit like how I’ve taken in you two…’

Jack tried to smile, to try and bring some levity into the conversation, but only half-succeeded, since his voice was a little rough with emotion.

_I haven’t seen or spoken to my dad in sixteen years._

_Jack’s one of my best friends. He’s family._

_Bozer calls him my surrogate father-figure. The Obi-Wan Kenobi to my Luke Skywalker._

_Bozer’s right, I think._

_If this ex-girlfriend’s daughter was his surrogate daughter, if they were family…well, then there’s definitely a story there, and it’s a painful one._

Jack toyed with the edge of his leather wristband for a moment before continuing.

‘My ex’s ex-husband, her daughter’s dad…he was an asshole. A real one.’ Jack’s eyes hardened. ‘An abusive alcoholic.’ Mac and Bozer exchanged another glance, a measure of hardness in their eyes much like Jack’s. ‘One night, he showed up at their place…reeking like an old dive bar…shouting and swearing…’ Jack stared into the distance, into the past. ‘I threw him around to stop him from beating up my girlfriend. And maybe his daughter too.’ Jack swallowed. ‘And then I walked out of their house and out of their lives.’ He swallowed again, voice rough when he spoke again. ‘And I didn’t see either of them or talk to either of them until I ran into my ex at the supermarket last week.’

Mac put an arm around Jack’s shoulders, as Bozer got up and started working on his extra-special, top-secret-recipe hot chocolate.

(This was definitely a super-special hot chocolate kind of moment.)

After a moment, Mac spoke a little hesitantly.

‘Did…did they _want_ you gone, or…’

Jack gave a very long, somewhat pained sigh.

‘I…I thought so, at first, but she kept calling me, you know. Kiddo did too. I refused to pick up, I mean, I threw him around real bad, man. Real bad.’ Jack snorted. ‘Didn’t think I was any better than him.’ He looked very regretful for a long, silent moment and his voice was rather soft when he spoke again. ‘And by the time I’d realized that that wasn’t the case…well, I was back in the Sandbox and I’d screwed it up completely, walking out and ignoring all their calls like that.’ There was another sad, defeated sigh. ‘You know, seeing her again, talking to her again…makes me think, maybe she was the right one.’ Mac and Bozer exchanged another glance as Bozer stirred the hot chocolate on the stove and Mac squeezed Jack’s shoulders again. They’d always thought that Sarah, the one who got away, was Jack’s right one, since that’s what he’d referred to her as, multiple times. The CIA agent whom Jack had worked with on a taskforce years and years ago, when Mac and Bozer were just kids, had gotten married last year, inviting Jack, which had dredged up all sorts of memories and regrets for the older man, which Mac and Bozer had naturally done their best to help him through. (Jack had taken Mac to the wedding in San Francisco as his plus-one, and afterwards, Mac had watched _Die Hard_ and drank beer with him in their hotel room, the two of them eating the snacks that Bozer had prepared for them.) Jack must have known which way their thoughts were turning, because he gave a wan, somewhat wry little smile. ‘Maybe you can have more than one right one. You know, that Multiverse Theory that you guys like to talk about…’

Mac gave a wan, teasing little smile, trying for some humour, some lightness.

‘That refers to the existence of an infinite number of parallel universes, Jack. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations.’ His smile softened and grew more serious, and he squeezed Jack’s shoulders again, before letting his arm drop. ‘But there’s always a lot of possibilities, even in our universe.’ He gave a little shrug. ‘My grandfather always said that finding the right person to spend your life with is all about meeting the right person at the right time under the right circumstances.’

Jack gave a little nod, as Bozer pointed at Mac in agreement, before ladling out three cups of hot chocolate, walking to the pantry to grab the marshmallows, and dumping two in each cup. Then, Bozer put one of the cups in front of Jack, who picked it up, held it out to Bozer in a silent toast, and took a sip.

‘Yeah, your grandfather was a real wise man, son.’ Jack occasionally called Mac that, instead of the usual _brother_ , or _man._ It was always when he was feeling particularly emotional, and when his guard was down (there’d been lots of Jack referring to Mac that way after Sarah’s wedding). Mac suspected that maybe, just maybe, Jack referred to him as _son_ inside his head quite frequently, and sometimes, it slipped out without Jack knowing, a suspicion that really warmed him from the inside out. ‘I’m so twitchy, as you put it, Boze, because running into her wasn’t the end of the story. We got talking, had coffee.’ Jack sipped more of Bozer’s excellent hot chocolate. ‘She kinda invited me to have coffee with her again this afternoon.’

Mac and Bozer exchanged another glance, Bozer speaking after a moment, his brow furrowed and a bit of confusion in his voice.

‘Then…then what’s the big problem, Jack? I mean, that’s a pretty good sign that she’s still into you, and if you think she might have been the right one, I mean…you’ve kinda hit the jackpot, right?’

Jack gave a little nod, rubbing the back of his neck and sipping more hot chocolate before he spoke, something sad and a little lost in his tone.

‘Yeah, I have…but I gotta apologize, Boze. I gotta.’ He sipped more hot chocolate, looking rather morose. ‘But I don’t know how to even start, and I don’t think _sorry_ is gonna fix it.’ He snorted, a dark-humoured sound. ‘I might have broken our relationship beyond all repair.’

Mac took a sip of his own hot chocolate, then shifted so he was looking the older man dead in the eye.

‘You start by saying sorry, Jack.’ He paused for a moment, then continued. ‘Saying sorry isn’t about making up for something, it isn’t about fixing the problem and making things better instantly. Saying sorry is the _start_ of the conversation that fixes the problem and makes things better.’ He paused again, reaching out and putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder. ‘And with enough time, effort and the right tools…almost everything can be repaired.’

Jack stared into Mac’s eyes for a moment, before giving a little, slightly jerky nod, then another, more sure the second time. He gave a slow, small but hopeful smile.

‘Thanks, son.’ Jack’s smile grew more teasing, and he took another draught from his hot chocolate before he spoke. ‘Those your grandfather’s words?’

Mac nodded and sipped at his own hot chocolate, as Bozer sat down with them and picked up his own mug. Jack reached out and grabbed the marshmallow bag, tossing another three into his hot chocolate, which led to Bozer seizing the bag.

‘Jack, two marshmallows is the perfect number to go into my super-special hot chocolate! Any more and the sugar starts upsetting that perfect balance of flavours!’

Jack just drank some more of the hot chocolate defiantly, then got up and reached for the marshmallow bag, causing Bozer to dodge out of the way, still clutching it.

Mac shook his head with fond, long-suffering exasperation (this happened all the time) and grabbed a hold of the three hot chocolate mugs, putting them somewhere safe so they wouldn’t be knocked over, then picked up his half-eaten poppyseed bagel and sat back to enjoy the show.

‘I was a Delta, Boze! We don’t give up! You and those marshmallows can’t hide from me forever!’

* * *

**CAFÉ NEAR THAT SUPERMARKET**

**LA**

* * *

‘…He turned your hair _orange._ While you were in Afghanistan.’

Diane raised her eyebrows as she sipped her mocha, as Jack finished telling her the story of how Mac had turned his hair orange as revenge for a prank (and to bring a little light into their lives and the lives of the rest of the taskforce) a few years ago. He nodded with a wry little smile full of fondness that Diane didn’t miss.

‘Yeah. I still got no idea how he pulled it off, but he did it alright. Took four days to wash out.’

She gave a little snort of laughter, doubtlessly imagining him with bright orange hair, and Jack took another sip of coffee and gathered his considerable courage.

‘Diane…I’m so, so sorry.’

He didn’t really need to specify what for.

Diane regarded him for a long moment, her expression growing serious again and looking at him in that way of hers that made him feel like she was seeing into his very soul.

‘ _Why_ , Jack?’

Why did he leave? Why did he refuse to return her calls, or Riley’s? Why did he never, ever try and reach out and find them after his deployment had ended? Or even after he’d left the military?

Jack looked down at his coffee for a long moment, then stared at Diane’s hands, left resting on the table, right wrapped around her own cup, then looked up at her face again.

‘I never thought I was a good enough man for the two of you.’ He looked down again. ‘I threw Ellwood around pretty hard, beat him up pretty bad.’ He paused. ‘I thought I was no better than him.’

Diane cut in at that point, something fierce and firm and resolute in her voice, and a hint of what Jack knew to be exasperation. The affectionate kind.

‘Jack, you threw him around to keep him from hurting me. To keep him from hurting my baby girl. You _protected_ us.’

He looked up at her, saw that same fierceness and touch of exasperation in her eyes, on her face, and gave a little nod, a regretful one, rubbing the back of his head.

‘Yeah, by the time I worked that out…I was in the Sandbox, you two had stopped trying to call and email and…well, I knew I’d screwed it up way too much to come back.’ He smiled a regretful, but also fond, soft, little smile. ‘Figured you two would throw me out on my ass for daring.’

Diane gave a little nod, knowing the truth in Jack’s words.

Neither she nor Riley had ever been shy at expressing their feelings when Jack pissed them off in some way or another.

And his departure had pissed them off more than anything else he’d ever done, pissed them off far more than leaving dirty socks everywhere had.

It was quite possible that they _would_ have thrown him out on his ass if he’d come back then.

But now, with time and distance for the wounds to close over…now was a whole different story.

Diane smiled, a small, heartfelt smile, full of exasperation and fondness and a little bit of hope.

‘Jack Dalton, you are a very stupid man.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a little slip of paper, folded in half, which she’d prepared that morning, for possible use this afternoon, depending on how things went. She slid it across the table to him, and Jack picked it up and opened it. There was a phone number written inside. Diane’s new (or probably not that new, it’d been ten years, after all…) number. Then, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, causing Jack to freeze completely. Her smile was almost Cheshire cat when she pulled away and sat back down. ‘Maybe it’s not too late…’

Jack simply blinked at her twice, then spoke, his voice soft and a little hoarse with emotion, but hopeful nonetheless.

‘I really hope it ain’t, Diane…’

Her smile grew more serious.

‘Jack, between us, it’s all good.’ She regarded him a moment. ‘But between you and Riley is a whole different matter...’ She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. ‘I’m going to tell her about…’ She searched for the right word. ‘…us. I don’t lie to or keep secrets from my baby girl.’ Jack just nodded with an affectionate, understanding smile. Riley and Diane had always had a close, strong relationship. A very special relationship. ‘But my baby girl’s not a baby anymore. She has her own life, I have my own.’ She gestured between the two of them. ‘This is between us.’ She looked into Jack’s eyes again, staring deep inside him once again, and spoke again, her voice full of that protective lioness spirit that he’d always seen in her. ‘But if this is going to be anything like it used to be…you’re going to have to have this kind of conversation with her in the future.’ A fond, yet also profoundly sad, expression appeared on her face. ‘It’s going to be harder than this was.’

Jack only nodded in acceptance.

His departure, Diane knew, had hurt Riley more than it had hurt her, in many ways.

Riley had been younger. Diane had had a whole array of exes, a couple of whom were genuinely assholes; Jack was, in a way, just another in a whole long line.

(Even if she’d always known he was absolutely not an asshole.)

But to Riley, Jack had been the closest thing she’d had to a father. Even now, he still was.

No-one else had ever come into their lives and filled that role for her.

Jack took a sip of his coffee, then looked up and held her gaze.

‘I’ll talk to her, one day, soon.’ His smile became a little more wry, fond and sad, all at once. ‘Well, if she’ll let me…’ His expression became more serious again. ‘I promise.’

Diane gave a little nod, a matching smile appearing on her face.

‘That’s good enough for me, for now.’ Her smile widened a little, growing softer and fonder and prouder. Much, much prouder. ‘Riley works for the FBI here in LA now, you know.’

Jack, too, smiled, a definite touch of pride in there.

He briefly wondered if Riley knew Bozer, but decided that was absurdly unlikely.

The FBI was a big organization, employed lots of people here in LA.

Besides, Bozer was a forensic accountant, he wouldn’t be in the same department as Riley.

The chances of them knowing each other were absurdly small.

Not worth mentioning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jack, if only you knew, if only you knew…


	5. Chapter 4

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

On Sunday, as he packed his lunch for the next day (a four-layer gourmet sandwich), Bozer pondered.

He’d been doing a lot of thinking since Saturday, when Mac had said that saying sorry was just the _start_ of the conversation.

He really did have to say sorry to Riley, start that conversation. If only to assuage that guilty feeling in his chest, in the back of his mind, and make the next few months of work less uncomfortable and less tense and awkward (even with that deal they’d made, that discomfort, tension and awkwardness was still palpable).

He glanced down at the counter, where the leftover sandwich ingredients rested. There were plenty of leftovers…

He reached out and started spreading mayonnaise on a slice of bread.

This might be too much. Going too far. Overstepping some boundaries.

But Bozer had a bit of a tendency to go overboard and occasionally (completely non-maliciously) overstep boundaries.

He was also a big believer in food as a buffer and a social lubricant.

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

'I had extra ingredients left over, so…’

Bozer shrugged as he nudged the wrapped sandwich over to Riley, who was sitting on the other side of the table in the conference room (Andi had authorized them to take over it for the day, since it had those really cool high-tech whiteboard-screens that they could write on, which was really helpful for digging through the nitty-gritty of the money trail).

Riley eyed the sandwich a little warily, but considering that it looked like an amazing four-layer sandwich complete with homemade brisket, and that all she had for lunch was an apple and a very dry peanut butter sandwich, her mind was more-or-less already made up, and she reached out and picked up the sandwich, unwrapping it as Bozer took a bite of his own.

They ate in silence for a while, but after a few bites, Bozer swallowed and spoke, a little hesitant, but voice resolute and regretful and apologetic all the same.

‘I’m sorry, Riley…I never should have said what I said.’ He looked over at her, meeting her eyes. ‘I’m _really, really_ sorry.’

For a moment, Riley considered ignoring him.

(She bought herself time by taking another bite of her sandwich and chewing slowly.)

But on the other hand…she and Bozer were stuck working with each other for what looked like it was going to be months. They’d made a promise to be professional with each other, and work together as efficiently as they could, so that it’d be over as soon as possible.

And then there was the advice that Sam had given her, and the other woman was pretty much never wrong about this type of thing…and he’d made her a sandwich and remembered her coffee order, and even to Riley, if she was as objective as she could be about this, he didn’t read like an asshole.

Maybe she’d been a little harsh to him.

Maybe she should have let him say what he wanted to say earlier.

So, she didn’t ignore him.

Instead, she swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and stared at the corner of the table right next to Bozer and spoke, her voice a little softer and more vulnerable than she would have liked.

‘I thought we were friends, Bozer. I thought you were nice to me because we were _friends_ , or because you were just a nice guy or whatever, not because you were trying to get into my pants.’ She looked up at him, a bit more anger in her voice now, mixed with some kind of pain. ‘I thought you respected me for _me_.’

Bozer, though he looked pained, simply nodded in regretful acceptance.

‘Yeah, I messed up big-time. I let my hopes about what we could be get in the way of what we were: great friends.’ He paused, looking down, then looking back up at her. ‘I should never, ever have said that, Riley…’ He paused again, seeming to hesitate for a moment, before continuing. ‘But it was all real, I swear. I really liked being your friend and doing friend things.’ He held his hands up, eyes a little wide, as if he wanted to make sure there were absolutely no misunderstandings. ‘ _Just_ -friend things.’

There was something very earnest in his expression, and Riley gave a little nod.

‘Yeah…but I probably shouldn’t have just shut you out like that. I should have given you a chance to apologize earlier, since we were friends. I’m sorry, too.’

Bozer gave a little, slightly hesitant, nod.

‘Yeah, that really hurt.’

Riley nodded, a hint of regret in the motion, then after a moment, spoke.

‘We both hurt each other.’ Bozer simply nodded. ‘But…’ She looked at the table, then back at him. ‘Can we let bygones be bygones?’

Bozer nodded again, and after a serious moment, he smiled and raised his sandwich in a toast of sorts.

‘To letting bygones be bygones.’

With a little snort, Riley raised her own sandwich in a matching gesture.

‘To letting bygones be bygones.’

* * *

The following Friday night, at 3 am (which probably made it Saturday, technically), as they took a quick coffee break from chasing down The Organization (exactly when it’d taken on the capital letters, Riley wasn’t sure, but there was something in the way that Bozer said it that made the capitalization implicit and compulsory, even in her brain) in the middle of their all-nighter (they were _so_ close to their first breakthrough, they could practically taste it), Riley sipped her coffee as Bozer rubbed his eyes. She swallowed, then spoke.

(Exactly _why_ she did, she had no idea. She’d blame it on the exhaustion and it being 3 am.)

‘You should stop using lines like that future girlfriend one.’ Bozer looked up at her, shocked and almost studying her as if she’d been replaced by an alien imposter or something like that. Riley rolled her eyes in a way that was almost fondly exasperated. Almost. ‘Yeah, I’m still me, Bozer.’ She bit her lip and went for broke. ‘Real you is a lot more charming than any supposedly-suave line.’

Bozer stared at her for a moment longer, before he glanced down into his own coffee.

‘Women don’t usually like real me. At least, not in that way.’

Bozer was pretty sure that he was the comic relief, that funny guy that all the girls loved, but not in _that_ way.

His romantic history was full of unrequited crushes to prove it.

Riley shrugged and gave a snort.

‘Yeah, well, real you is _definitely_ much better than the lines.’

Bozer gave a little grin that was tinged with a bit of sadness.

‘Thanks for the tip, Riley.’ His grin became more sheepish and wry. ‘My game really needs some adjustments, doesn’t it? You know, just little ones?’

Riley snorted again, putting down her coffee cup and shaking her head as she turned back to her laptop.

‘Yeah, just some _little_ ones…just overhaul the _whole approach_ and all…’

* * *

**TWO YEARS AGO**

**KUNDUZ**

**AFGHANISTAN**

* * *

Crouching in the compound, pinned behind cover due to enemy fire along with the rest of the taskforce, Mac stared at horror at the bomb he’d just disarmed.

There was another bomb inside it.

He glanced at the man, unconscious and cuffed next to Davies and Johnstone, two of the Delta Force commandos on the taskforce, behind an old rusty truck. The man they all knew as The Ghost, the man this taskforce had been created to take down, the man who’d taken his mentor’s life just days before his daughter’s birth.

It’d been a _trap._

‘There’s another bomb!’

‘What?’

Jack’s voice was shocked as he ducked back behind the large crate he and Mac were sheltering behind.

‘It’s a bomb _inside_ a bomb!’

Mac looked back down at it, at the clock that showed there were fewer than fifty seconds before detonation. Jack ducked out very briefly from behind the crate to return fire, then ducked back behind cover.

‘Can you disarm it?’

Mac shook his head.

‘There’s no time…’

He had to do _something_ , though, or they’d all be dead in forty seconds. Mac glanced around them, looking for something, anything, he could use. There was a well only about twenty-five feet from him and Jack, but it was very shallow, judging by the length of the rope its bucket was tied to. Too shallow. The blast would still be too strong when it reached the surface…

Then, it hit him.

This was a crazy idea.

An insane and potentially suicidal idea.

But he had no other options.

If he didn’t do this, they’d all die.

If he did…well, then they wouldn’t _all_ die.

Mac quickly stripped off his heavy-duty bullet-proof vest, wrapping it around the bomb. When Jack ducked back behind the old crate from firing, he stared at Mac in horror and shock.

‘Brother, what are you-‘

Mac didn’t respond, simply picked up his very dangerous parcel and ran as fast as he could towards the well, shouting at the rest of the taskforce as he did so.

‘Get clear!’

He tossed the bomb down the well, and turned to run, counting down the seconds until detonation in his head.

There was a sudden sharp pain on the left side of his chest, near his heart, and then he was falling and things were starting to go blurry…

He felt a hand grab him, start dragging him, heard a familiar voice…

‘Brother, hang in there, you crazy brave genius, hang in there…’

He tried to speak, but it was like he was no longer in control of his own body…

There was a sharp bang near his ear, and the figure pulling him stumbled…

Then there was another bang, a slightly different sound. An explosion.

There was more pain, duller than he’d expected it to be.

Then all went dark.

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Mac woke up, sitting bolt upright in bed, panting and sweating as if he’d just run five miles.

Awareness came back to him, and he ran his hand through his damp hair.

_Just a nightmare. It was just another nightmare, MacGyver. Just a nightmare._

_You survived. Jack survived. The whole taskforce survived._

Mac ran his hand through his hair again, tossing the covers off his body. He knew there was no going back to sleep, even if it definitely wasn’t dawn yet, judging from the complete lack of light filtering through the blinds. He glanced over at his closet, towards the shoebox shoved in the corner that held the Silver Star and Purple Heart he’d gotten for his actions that day.

He sighed and put his feet on the floor, picking up his phone and walking to the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

* * *

Mac sat down at the kitchen counter, selfishly wishing that Bozer wasn’t at work pulling an all-nighter to try and crack the biggest case of his career.

He could really have done with some company right then.

On autopilot, he unlocked his phone, debating whether or not to call Jack.

There was an unread text message waiting for him, from Doc.

**On one hand, I’m sure you’d be an excellent Sami reindeer herder, but on the other hand…no reindeer would be able to run anywhere near fast enough to pull a rocket-propelled sled!**

That managed to bring a little smile to Mac’s face. He didn’t really know how his hypothetical life as a Sami reindeer herder had become a topic of conversation, but he didn’t really care (it was amusing and good fun, after all), and it seemed Doc didn’t either, perfectly happy and comfortable to just roll with it.

He replied immediately, completely neglecting to notice that it was 4:12 am.

**They would with the exo-suits I’d build for them! :P**

Then, he swore to himself as he noticed the time. According to their conversations last night, Doc had today (it was already ‘tomorrow’, Saturday, being 4 am and all) off, and Mac knew that he (Mac assumed that Doc was a man and used male pronouns in his head as a result; it was highly probable, after all, since 75% of ER doctors were men, and most engineers were men, so most engineering fans were, logically, also male – as Doc was both, it seemed extremely improbable that Doc was a woman) was going to sleep in as a result.

He might have just woken the hard-working doctor with whom he had strange but fascinating and amusing conversations by text.

He debated whether he should send an apology, considering that he _should_ apologize, but also considering that the apology might wake Doc, if the first message hadn’t already…

However, as he was thinking, he got a reply.

**It’s 4:14, what are you doing up at this hour?**

Making a face (yeah, he’d woken Doc…), Mac sipped from his water glass, then typed out a reply.

**Nightmare.**

**Sorry for waking you.**

Doc’s response was immediate.

**You didn’t.**

**A nightmare woke me, too.**

There was a pause before he got another message, as if Doc had hesitated and carefully considered whether to send the next words.

**What was yours about?**

Mac took another sip of water, staring into the distance, into the past, for a moment, before he started typing, responding in more detail than he consciously intended to.

**I was an Army EOD for 6 years. Joined up straight after I graduated from MIT.**

**2 years ago, my unit got caught in a trap. Pinned by enemy fire.**

**There was a bomb. It would have killed us all. I didn’t have time to disarm it, so I improvised. That improvising involved using my body armour for something other than its intended purpose.**

**Took a bullet and a load of shrapnel to the chest. Longhorn saved my life, pulled me to safety. Got shot in the knee and injured his wrist for his trouble. We were both discharged on medical grounds after.**

Unconsciously, he rubbed the bullet scar on his chest, close to his heart.

**That’s what I dreamed about, clear as the day it happened.**

**The nightmares aren’t always like that; usually it’s just unclear flashes. Combat. Violence. The desert. Explosions. Death.**

**What was yours about?**

He sipped some more water and stared at the wall, not really seeing it, looking into his memories instead. A couple of minutes later, Doc replied, and Mac set down his water glass and picked up his phone again.

**I know this is inadequate on so many levels – but I’m so, so sorry, and thank you for your service. Are you and Longhorn alright (physically and mentally)?**

**As for me- when I finished my residency, I went to work with MSF for a year, in Aleppo. I got back two and a half months ago. Last night/this morning…I was back there again.**

**There’d been an airstrike on the outskirts of the city, not too far from us. We were sheltering in the hospital, knowing that there were people out there who need our help, but also knowing that we couldn’t go help them yet, because there might well be a double-tap. We were completely powerless to do anything. I couldn’t do anything.**

**Like for you, most of mine aren’t that specific. It’s mostly flashes, impressions. Screaming. Blood. Death. Grief. Helplessness.**

Mac swallowed as he read, closing his eyes for a moment. Then, he replied, quite purposefully now.

Doc had only been home for two and a half months.

He’d been home for two years now.

He had experience, experience that might let him help out his new friend, if you could call someone whom you’d never met, only ever texted on your phone and didn’t know the name of a friend.

**Longhorn and I are, honestly, much more than okay. He’s much older than I am, which influenced the Army’s decision to discharge him. His knee and wrist ache sometimes, but his mobility is just as good as it was. The Army docs had concerns about the mobility of my left arm and shoulder, but apparently, I have the Devil’s own luck, because I healed perfectly. Just got the scars.**

**Mentally – well, we both saw a shrink for about a year afterwards. I still have an appointment every 6 months, just to check in. I also have really great friends. Honestly, the nightmares are getting less frequent, and I’m fine during the day.**

**You’ve probably heard this many times over, but - it gets better, Doc. With support and help (professional and not) and time, it gets better. I promise.**

He put away his now-empty glass, rinsing it out and putting it in the rack to dry. Then, he picked up his phone and sat down on the couch in the living room, putting his phone on the coffee table.

He didn’t have to wait too long for the reply from Doc.

**I’m very glad to hear that you and Longhorn are doing well!**

**And thank you for your advice – yes, I have heard it many, many times, but thanks regardless. It’s the thought that counts, right?**

**The doctor who became my mentor when I was in Syria told me that it would be tough, going home. He said that you can’t un-see what you saw, but just the same, the good you did and the lives you saved can’t be undone. He said to focus on the latter, look forward to the future and the lives I can save in the future.**

**I’m trying to take his advice. And I also have an excellent support network (both friends and family) and I’m seeing a psychologist too. (They say that doctors are usually the worst patients, but I like to think I’m an exception to that rule…)**

**Maybe this is tactless, since you were injured in the line of duty, regardless of the fact that your recovery went very well (I promise I don’t mean it that way…), but I think we’ve both been very lucky, in the end.**

He knew very well that Doc couldn’t see him, but Mac nodded in agreement.

_Most people wouldn’t call getting caught in a trap, finding a bomb-within-a-bomb and taking a load of shrapnel and a bullet to the chest lucky._

_In terms of luck, I agree that’s pretty unlucky._

_But Doc’s right._

_In the end, I was lucky._

_Everyone survived, without serious injury. I was the one most badly hurt._

_I came home, to Bozer, to Penny, with Jack. My friends. My family._

_I recovered. Honestly, all I’ve got left from that day are the scars, the memories and the nightmares._

_I’ve got my demons, but I’m about as far as you can get from having to fight them alone._

_I’m very, very lucky._

_I know I am._

**Your mentor is very wise; that’s good advice.**

**And yeah, we are very lucky.**

**And Doc – if you ever need/want to talk, I’m here for you.**

He gave a little smile, propping his feet up on the coffee table, feeling surprisingly at peace. His phone chimed a moment later.

**Thanks! And I’m here for you too, should you want somebody else to talk to.**

That really should have been the end of the conversation, but Mac found himself typing out another message anyway. 

(He really didn’t know _why._ Well, he sort-of did – he’d been curious as to how old Doc was ever since he’d mentioned the Doogie Howser jokes. He had a theory, based on the content of their conversations and that little titbit. He _really_ wanted to know if he was right.)

(Mac really liked knowing things. He also didn’t get to meet all that many people like him.)

(And it was 4:30 am and they’d just had a D&M, so maybe that explained this inexplicable urge and his actions.)

**Doc, how old are you?**

After he’d sent it, there was a moment when he wished he could take it back.

It was a weird thing to ask. It could also be considered kind of creepy.

But one couldn’t take back sent text messages.

However, he needn’t have worried, because Doc replied immediately.

**I’m 26.**

There was a pause for a moment, before the next message arrived, as if Doc was mulling over the next text very carefully. Hesitating.

A little like he had been, just then.

(His theory was looking like it was almost certainly right. Medical school took four years, an ER residency three, Doc had been in Syria a year…)

**How old are you?**

**I admit I’ve kind of been wanting to ask that…**

Mac smiled, and didn’t hesitate before replying.

**Also 26. Did you finish high school at 16 and your undergrad at 18 too?**

**Yes, I did!**

**(I was curious as to how old you were mostly because I wanted to know if you’d graduated early too. I mean, given our conversations and your spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine, it seemed like a pretty logical conclusion…but the probability of one person like us texting another by complete accident seemed unlikely…)**

Mac chuckled, shaking his head. Doc didn’t even know the half of it. This was really a highly improbable coincidence.

**You know, Valerie’s a child genius who’ll finish high school at 16 too…**

**Seriously?**

**This is officially the most improbable coincidence I’ve ever been involved in in any way, shape or form!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Mac, Doc, you don’t even know what’s coming…
> 
> Are you happy that Bozer and Riley are finally, properly communicating with each other? (I was when I finally got to this part!) And yes, I firmly believe that food is an excellent social lubricant; it’s better than alcohol in my mind! (I don’t drink much, though, so that might be why…)


	6. Chapter 5

**DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

‘…He made me a sandwich the other day.’ Riley smiled. ‘It was a really good sandwich.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re getting along better, and the case is going well.’

Diane smiled back at her daughter as the two of them sipped home-made lemonade and nibbled store-bought cookies on the couch.

She’d heard plenty of rants about this Bozer guy. Plenty. She had, admittedly, wanted to slap the back of his head for hitting on her baby girl like that, but she’d also suspected that Riley had been wrong in assuming that he’d never truly valued their friendship.

However, Diane also knew that trying to change her daughter’s mind on anything, once it was made up like that, was like trying to move the Earth.

No, Riley had to change her own mind.

Personally, secretly, Diane was glad that she had.

Riley had precious few friends, and Bozer did seem to genuinely be a good person.

Diane took another sip of lemonade as Riley took a bite of a cookie, chewed and swallowed. After a moment’s hesitation (just a moment), Diane spoke.

‘Riley, baby girl, a couple of weeks ago, I ran into Jack at the supermarket.’ Riley froze, half-eaten cookie halfway to her mouth. ‘We got talking…and now I’m seeing him again.’

Riley shook herself out of it, putting the cookie down on the coffee table, ignoring the crumbs that spilt everywhere.

‘Mom! How…why…’

Diane put down her lemonade and reached out and took her daughter’s hands.

‘He wants to talk to you, to apologize, baby girl.’

Riley sat there, tense and hard-eyed.

‘Well, _I’m_ not talking to him. I’m _not_ listening to him.’

Riley had known after they’d moved, changed their numbers and their emails, that Jack would never have managed to find them.

She knew.

She’d done quite a bit online to hide them, after all, and Riley knew that she was really, really good at what she did.

But she’d _also_ kept tabs on everything she’d set up.

If Jack had tried to find them, she’d have known.

She’d known Jack wouldn’t find them.

But somewhere, deep inside, she’d needed him to have _tried._

Riley’s voice softened a tiny bit, tempered now with concern for her beloved mom.

‘You gave Ellwood a second chance. And a third one. And a fourth one. And so on.’ Riley paused for a moment. ‘We both did.’ Riley’s father had come back into their lives time and time again, periodically. At first, he’d tried to get back together with Diane, tried to make them a ‘family’ again, and then, later, simply said he wanted to build a relationship with his daughter. Riley squeezed her mom’s hands, her voice quiet but hard and angry when she continued. ‘And look what he tried to do. What he would have done if not…’

She trailed off, and it was Diane’s turn to squeeze her daughter’s hands gently.

‘What he’d have done if not for Jack.’ Diane paused, letting go of Riley’s hands and brushing a lock of Riley’s hair which had come loose from her ponytail back behind her ear instead. ‘Baby girl, you know Jack’s nothing like Ellwood.’

After a moment, Riley nodded, acknowledging the truth of it.

For all his faults, for how badly he’d hurt them…Jack was a whole different breed compared to her biological father.

The young hacker considered a moment, before sighing and speaking.

‘Obviously, I can’t tell you who to date or not to date, Mom.’ She paused again and huffed out a breath before continuing, looking into her mom’s eyes. ‘He’d better make you happy.’ Diane gave a little smile and a nod. So far, he did. Riley gave a little nod in response, then her eyes hardened again. ‘But I’m not…I _can’t_ forgive him.’

Diane sighed, a sad little sound, before she gave an equally sad little smile and leaned over to kiss the top of Riley’s head.

‘Okay, baby girl, okay.’

* * *

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

‘Ellwood didn’t deserve those third, fourth and so on chances. He gave you very good reasons to not give him them.’ Sam sipped her wine, regarding Riley over her wine glass. ‘He gave you good reasons to not give him a _second_ chance, even.’ She paused again. ‘But has this Jack?’

Riley took a healthy gulp of her wine, eyes sliding away from Sam’s probing ones.

She didn’t have an answer to that.

Not one she wanted to give, anyway.

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

‘…There. Stop it there.’ Riley paused the video footage from the bank that they’d tracked some of The Organization’s transactions to, as Bozer, standing beside her chair and leaning down to watch over her shoulder, pointed to a man on the screen. ‘That guy’s wearing a full-face prosthesis.’

Riley looked up at him, brow furrowed.

‘How can you tell?’

To Riley, he looked like a perfectly normal person. Nothing fishy about him at all.

Bozer gave a little smirk.

‘This is my wheelhouse.’

Riley raised a sceptical eyebrow at him.

‘You’re a forensic accountant.’

Bozer’s smirk widened a bit, but there was a little sadness on his face too, Riley thought.

‘Prosthetics are a hobby of mine.’ He pulled out his phone and pulled up a series of pictures. ‘There’s me as Abraham Lincoln…and that’s Mac as General Wang…that’s me again as George Washington…’

Riley only saw Abraham Lincoln, a middle-aged Chinese guy in military regalia, and George Washington.

She definitely didn’t see Bozer or his roommate/BFF, whom she knew from Bozer’s description to be very blonde.

‘Bozer, these are amazing.’ She really meant that. ‘Why are you working for the FBI, instead of making these for movies?’

She knew Bozer loved movies and had a real passion for them. She knew he made them in his spare time, even if she hadn’t known about the incredible prostheses he made.

Bozer grinned, but there was definitely a sad tinge to his grin this time.

‘I made those costumes too.’ Riley raised her eyebrow at him, and he held up his hands. ‘Hey, real men sew, Riley, real men sew!’ Riley gave a snort of laughter, as Bozer glanced at the time on her laptop, then straightened up. ‘Come on, let’s eat lunch and I’ll tell you the story.’

* * *

Bozer chewed on a mouthful of his lunch (a fancy gourmet salad), staring into the distance (probably into a memory) for a moment, before he swallowed and spoke.

‘When I was a kid, making movies was my dream. I wanted to write them and direct them.’ He put down his fork. ‘I was totally committed to achieving my dream. Nothing was gonna stop me.’ He looked down at the table. ‘Then my Junior year, my mom got sick. Real sick. Had to quit her job.’ He looked up again at her for a moment, then back down at his lunch. ‘With that and the medical bills…money was tight.’ A soft, fond smile appeared on his face. ‘My friends helped out, of course. Penny brought us casseroles and soup and cinnamon rolls, and Mac fixed up everything that broke in our house for free…and quite a few things that didn’t, just to make them work better. And family helped out too; my aunt gave me a proper part-time job at her accounting firm as a file clerk…’ Bozer paused and looked up at her again, saw the empathy and sympathy in her eyes. Money had been tight for her and her mom for most of her life; she admitted that getting the money to buy nice things, especially nice things for her mom, had been a not-unsubstantial part of her motivation for becoming a black-hat. ‘Anyway…I realized that the whole becoming-an-Alfred Hitchcock/Michael Bay-hybrid was a dream. Something really, really, really improbable, that wasn’t gonna pay the bills, at least not for years and years, even if I succeeded.’ He shrugged. ‘I realized I had to pick something more practical, and I had a weird knack for accounting, so…’

He shrugged again, as if to say, _and now I’m here._

Riley had the strangest urge to pat his hand sympathetically, but didn’t. Instead, she just looked him in the eye, putting as much sympathy and empathy and understanding in there as she could. She even let that little bit of admiration she felt slip in (It was such a big thing to do for his family, such a sacrifice to make – Riley would go to prison for her mom if she had to, but she’d always thought that that level of dedication to your family was rare. Maybe she was really jaded and it was more common than she thought. Or maybe Bozer was just a member of a rare breed.).

‘I’m sorry you had to give up your dream, Bozer.’

He gave a little shrug that was tinged with sadness, but very much a gesture of acceptance. He stuck his fork into his salad again.

‘Eh, it was worth it, and I can still do it after work and on the weekends.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And besides, if I’d stuck with that filmmaker dream, I’d probably be flipping burgers and making movies in my spare time, wishing I could quit, then eventually decide to quit when my boss tried to promote me to Assistant Manager or something, because if I was gonna make it, making movies had to be my focus, and then Mac would have to stop charging me rent…’

That was oddly specific. Riley wasn’t sure where Bozer was pulling all of that from, but he was a little weird (not that she really minded), so she was just going to roll with it.

She smiled and stuck her own fork into her pasta salad to pick up another bite.

‘Yeah, forensic accountant still sounds cooler than burger flipper.’

Bozer looked affronted.

‘What do you mean _still?_ ’ He snorted. ‘Forensic accounting’s an art!’ He pointed at her and shook his head. ‘You’ve got no appreciation for the classics, young lady, none at all!’

* * *

The next day, she bought him coffee, which made him grin and raise it to her in a toast of sorts.

‘Thanks, Riley.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

One Sunday afternoon, Mac smiled to himself as he rearranged the photos and knick-knacks on the mantel to make space for the sculpture made of recycled materials that Annabelle Pena had given him. It was certainly _interesting_ aesthetically, definitely looking like it was made by an eight-year-old, and it had questionable structural integrity, but to Mac, it was beautiful, and deserved to be displayed proudly in his and Bozer’s living room.

The last photo that needed moving a little was a picture of a much younger Bozer and Penny at Prom.

(They’d been each other’s Prom dates during that very brief period in which Bozer and Penny had dated – including Prom, they’d been on four dates before deciding they were really no more than friends. During Senior year, Mac and Penny had been a couple for a grand total of twenty-six days before coming to the same conclusion, and as such, Penny was technically Mac and Bozer’s mutual ex-girlfriend.)

Mac smiled a little wider, softer, and shook his head, before backing up to take a photo of the whole arrangement to send to Rachel Pena, Annabelle’s mom.

After taking and sending the photo, without really thinking, he opened the long chain of messages he’d exchanged with Doc and added another one.

**Hey Doc, did you go to Prom?**

Then, knowing that Doc was probably on shift, since he hadn’t mentioned having either day of this weekend off, he put his phone down on the coffee table, grabbed his self-opening Esky and went out onto the deck to work on it.

He was going to make his Esky walk. It’d be even more convenient that way.

* * *

He got a reply that night, not long after Bozer had headed out after dinner to film a few night scenes for his latest movie project.

**No, I didn’t. It’s probably obvious that I wasn’t very popular at school, so no-one asked me and I didn’t dare ask anyone, so I just didn’t go.**

**Did you?**

Mac nodded, having suspected as much. He flopped down onto the couch, deciding that loading the dishwasher could wait a little longer.

**I lost a bet to Samwise and had to ask the girl my 14-year-old self had a massive crush on. She was the prettiest girl at our school, and my chem lab partner.**

(Samwise was the name that he used to refer to Bozer in his texts with Doc. Mac felt it was extremely, extremely appropriate. Bozer had stuck with him and supported him for so long, that Mac was quite sure that if need be, he’d go with him all the way to Mount Doom.)

**She was also only nice to me so I’d do all the work in chem class and her homework as well, so…yeah, I got shot down cold. Spent Prom night watching a live shuttle launch instead.**

Mac huffed out a breath, remembering that night.

_Despite what I tell people, that I wanted to watch that live shuttle launch all along…honestly, I’d rather have gone to Prom._

_I also really, really liked Darlene at the time. If I could build a time machine and travel back in time without violating the Time-Space Continuum, I’d go slap my fourteen-year-old self upside the head for being so taken in by a pretty face. And pretty…well, other things._

_Yeah, I was fourteen. That’s really my only excuse._

_The best part of Prom night was Bozer and Penny showing up afterwards with ice-cream. I showed them the recording I’d made of the shuttle launch and they put up with my admittedly detailed and probably boring commentary…_

_Honestly, maybe I should have just gone dateless to Prom. I would if I had my time again._

_That way, I’d at least have gone, and it’s not as if I’d have been alone anyway._

_But the Time-Space Continuum is definitely far more important than my failure to check off what is probably the most stereotypically revered American high school experience._

He was pulled out of his thoughts as his phone chimed, signalling Doc’s reply.

**I’m so sorry, that was really mean of her!**

**Wait a moment – was it the Discovery launch on December 9 th, 2006?**

Mac stared at his phone screen for a moment, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was reading. He gave a snort of slightly-hysterical laughter, as he realized why, surely, Doc had to be asking that.

**Yeah, it was.**

Doc responded before he could continue.

**Our Proms must have been on the same night; I spent Prom night watching that launch with my parents and eating pie.**

**You know, just over a month ago, my life was normal with a normal frequency of improbable coincidences/situations/events…and now, well, it doesn’t have to be said!**

**You’re the only variable that has changed in the last month.**

**Conclusion: I think you have a tendency to increase the likelihood of improbable things happening.**

Mac shook his head rather fondly with a chuckle, stretching out a bit more on the couch.

**And just how would I do that, Doc? :P**

**No idea. But if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth! :P**

* * *

**DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

On a Friday evening, Jack walked up to Diane’s front door, carrying a bouquet of daffodils and feeling oddly nervous.

After six Saturday afternoons spent over coffee at Diane’s favourite café near that fateful supermarket, he and Diane were finally going out on a ‘proper’ date.

(Said ‘proper’ date meant it was Jack’s job to plan it and to pick her up – he’d been raised to be a relatively proper Southern Gentleman, thank you very much.)

(He’d decided on going for a nice drive in his Shelby Cobra and a picnic, home-made by him.)

(Well, with some consultation from Bozer – Jack had needed help when most of the food hadn’t turned out how he’d intended, but following Bozer’s advice, he had managed to save most of it.)

(Coupled with the fact that he’d called Mac after work an hour and a half ago, slightly panicked, asking how he could get grease stains off his hands stat, Jack knew he was in for an interrogation tomorrow, when he headed over to Mac and Bozer’s with bagels and coffee as he did every Saturday morning.)

He knocked on the door, and a moment later, Diane opened it.

She smiled when she saw the flowers, and leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

‘You remembered.’

Daffodils had always been her favourite.

(Of course he remembered.)

(He’d found it very, very difficult to forget things about this woman, even during those years when he’d wished he could.)

* * *

‘Your Shelby Cobra…’

The two of them walking arm in arm, Diane tilted her head to look up at him as they approached his car.

She knew how precious this car was to Jack. It was almost as important to him as his dad’s dog tags were and more important than the complete works of Bruce Willis on DVD.

Jack just grinned, an expression that somehow had shades of a smirk and shades of a soft, affectionate smile in it.

‘Gotta take my best girl out in my best car.’

She shook her head at him, a gesture that was equal parts fond and exasperated, and pecked his cheek again.

Jack’s grin widened.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘Of course you’re waiting, of course…’ Jack had opened Mac and Bozer’s front door to find both young men sitting on the couch, seemingly nonchalantly, waiting for him (neither of them were pulling off nonchalant all that well – Mac was thumbing through an issue of _New Scientist_ that Jack knew he’d read before, slower than Jack knew Mac could read something for the second time, while Bozer was actually _whistling_ ). He sighed and tossed the bagel bag on the coffee table, before setting down the cardboard holder containing the coffee cups and sitting down on the couch next to Mac. ‘…It went real great, you buzzards.’

Mac and Bozer both adopted innocent expressions ( _far_ too innocent), before Mac reached over to clap Jack on the shoulder.

‘I’m really happy for you, Jack.’

Bozer pointed at his BFF, then at the older man.

‘Ditto, man, ditto.’ Then, his expression became more of a mischievous smirk. ‘But it didn’t go as well as it could have, I mean, if it had, you wouldn’t be here, you’d be…oof!’

Bozer was cut off by Mac clapping a hand over his mouth and shooting him a _look_. The forensic accountant shot Jack an apologetic, sheepish look, though he also started muttering under his breath (once Mac removed his hand) about how it was the _modern day_ and things were _different_ now and after three dates was considered very normal and _acceptable_ and he did kind of get why _Jack_ would be old-fashioned (even though, he thought, given the handful of stories Jack had told about his younger days, that might well be false – at least with respect to this aspect of life), since he was _old_ , though _Mac_ being old-fashioned was a bit weird, since he was even younger than Bozer…

Mac just turned back to Jack, mostly ignoring Bozer’s rambling.

_Maybe I am a little old-fashioned when it comes to this sort of thing._

_In my defence, half of what I know about dating, I learned from my grandfather, who really was from a different day and age._

_Dating nowadays is weird. My grandfather used to tell me stories about diners and drive-ins, and now it’s movies in cemeteries and escape rooms. What’s so romantic about that?_

‘What’s her name?’

Jack smiled, slow, soft and fond.

‘Diane. Her name’s Diane.’ Then, he reached out and grabbed the bagel bag, grabbing a poppyseed one for Mac and passing it to him, then taking one for himself and tossing the bag at Bozer. He looked rather pointedly at Mac. ‘Eat up, brother. I got you three this time. We’ll get some meat onto your skinny butt, just you wait and see.’

Mac just rolled his eyes, but took a large bite of his poppyseed bagel anyway.

* * *

Mac, half a poppyseed bagel in his hand, pulled out his phone when it chimed, looked at the screen, and chuckled.

That made Bozer and Jack turn to look at his phone screen, just like clockwork.

Their brows furrowed.

‘Who’s Doc?’

‘Mac, did you meet someone new?’

Internally, Mac sighed and rolled his eyes.

_Yeah, we are all way up in each other’s business._

_That’s what family’s for, after all._

He put his phone back into his pocket and spoke.

‘A few weeks ago, I accidentally texted a video of my spaghetti-machine-spaghetti-machine to a wrong number instead of to Valerie. The person on the other end complimented it, and we got talking.’ He shrugged. ‘And somehow, we’re still talking.’ He shrugged again. ‘Doc appreciates fine engineering and _The Martian,_ and graduated early too.’

Mac, thinking that that was a perfectly adequate explanation and that the whole matter could now be dropped, took another hearty bite of his poppyseed bagel, as Jack and Bozer exchanged a look.

Jack, as nonchalantly as he could, spoke.

‘Is this Doc a man or a woman?’

Mac chewed, swallowed, and shrugged.

‘I don’t know, but statistically, since Doc’s an ER doctor and most engineering fans are male, probably a man.’ He looked bemused. ‘How is that relevant?’

With that, Mac put the last bit of poppyseed bagel into his mouth and reached for the bag to start rummaging around for the promised third one as he chewed.

Jack and Bozer just exchanged another look, both face-palming internally.

Sometimes, Mac was a very stupid genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skimming the fourth wall is fun! And finally, we get the backstory on why Bozer’s a forensic accountant - is it plausible? In-character? And yes, Mac-is-a-very-stupid-genius is a fun trope to play with! In this story, he’s kind-of the comic relief, which I thought was a fun/interesting thing to do, since Jack and Bozer usually play that role.


	7. Chapter 6

**BISTRO**

**LA**

* * *

‘…Yeah, so Mac decides to do his thing to their laundry detergent…’ Diane already knew who Mac was; some of Jack’s best stories involved his crazy-brilliant-mad-scientist friend. ‘…and next thing we know, Bozer, his BFF/roommate/surrogate brother, makes really awesome food, not so awesome movies…’ As Bozer hadn’t come up yet, Jack felt the need to give a very quick description of him. He was perfectly sure that he’d nailed it, so turned his attention briefly back to his steak, looking down and cutting another mouthful as he talked. ‘…winds up with a whole load of hot-pink clothes!’

Unbeknownst to Jack, while he’d been cutting his steak, Diane’s eyes had widened in realization.

Bozer was not a common name at all.

And how many Bozers could there be in LA who made awesome food?

Jack’s best friend’s best friend was also the Bozer with whom her daughter worked.

Her daughter’s friend was also friends with Jack.

This, Diane thought, could get very, very messy very, very quickly.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…Case is going good; Riley’s awesome hacker skills got us a breakthrough yesterday…’

Bozer grinned as he sipped his coffee, lost in either his memory or admiration or possibly both, as Jack almost choked on his mouthful of bagel.

His Riley worked for the FBI’s LA office.

Bozer’s hacker-chick-co-worker-who-used-to-hate-him was called Riley.

His Riley was Bozer’s co-worker and friend.

Fortunately, Jack thought, neither Bozer nor Mac noticed, as Bozer was too caught up in his story and Mac was too caught up in his poppyseed bagel.

This could get real complicated, real easy.

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

‘…Mom was really happy on the weekend.’ Riley gave a soft little smile over her sandwich, as she and Bozer ate lunch together in the breakroom like they always did. ‘She had a good date on Friday night, apparently. He took her to this slightly fancy but not too fancy French bistro downtown...’ Riley seemed to stare into the past for a moment, eyes becoming a little unfocused. ‘The universe owes Diane Davis some happiness, even if it is with her ex.’

She took another bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully and still lost in her memories.

Meanwhile, Bozer almost dropped his own sandwich (identical to Riley’s, as he’d made them).

Jack had taken his no-longer-ex girlfriend Diane to a slightly fancy but not too fancy French bistro on Friday night.

Bozer knew that because he’d recommended the restaurant.

Riley’s mom’s ex-boyfriend that she was now seeing again, something that Riley had _not_ been happy about, was _Jack Dalton._

(Riley’s reaction made so much sense to Bozer now, since according to Jack, he’d kind of been Riley’s father-figure.)

Who was Bozer’s BFF’s best friend.

And also Bozer’s really good friend.

His life had officially become a soap opera.

* * *

Bozer shook his head and groaned as his phone chimed for the sixth time in five minutes. Riley quirked an eyebrow at him, looking up from her laptop.

‘You gonna get that?’

Bozer huffed out a sigh.

‘Yeah, I probably should, or he’s just gonna keep texting me…’ Bozer pulled out his phone and rolled his eyes. Jack, in a series of texts that involved an increasing number of emojis, was trying to convince Bozer to steal Mac’s phone so that they could work out whether Doc was a dude or a chick. He shook his head and started muttering to himself, thinking out loud. ‘Seriously, Jack Dalton, you’re an idiot…and what in the world is with the Dallas Cowboys emoji, man? How is that relevant to this conversation?’

As Bozer muttered to himself about how hard it was to steal from his BFF/roommate/landlord and about the importance of privacy, Riley’s eyes widened and she stared at her computer screen, not really seeing the lines of code in front of her at all.

Bozer was friends with Jack.

 _Her_ Jack.

Oh, God, this was going to get messy.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Bozer walked into their house, rubbing the back of his neck as he tossed his jacket over the back of the couch.

‘Hey, Boze. How was work?’ Mac, who was cooking dinner, greeted his roommate. Judging by the smell and the fact that Mac was putting a large casserole dish into the oven and wearing a tomato-sauce-stained apron, it was lasagne. There was also a whole array of women’s high heels, which looked second-hand, sitting in the corner of the living room, which definitely hadn’t been there that morning. Mac looked up after putting the lasagne in the oven, and saw where his roommate was looking. He gave a little shrug as Bozer raised an eyebrow at him. ‘They’re for an experiment; Doc and I were debating whether or not you could stab someone with a stiletto heel…’

Bozer just nodded, by now very accustomed to his crazy-brilliant-mad-scientist-puppy of a best friend. He padded into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

‘Mac…I got a problem, bro.’ Bozer downed some beer, as Mac looked concernedly over at him. ‘You know Jack’s no-longer-ex girlfriend?’ Bozer drank some more beer as Mac just nodded. ‘She’s Riley’s mom.’

Bozer’s roommate stared at him for a moment, before muttering something about Doc maybe being right about improbability, then addressed Bozer.

‘I’m guessing none of them know?’ Bozer nodded and drank more beer. Mac paused for a moment. ‘Are…are you going to tell them?’

Bozer sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

‘I probably should, shouldn’t I?’ Mac nodded. ‘It’s gonna get messy, bro…Riley wasn’t happy about her mom dating Jack again.’ Bozer took another sip of beer. ‘He was kinda her dad, so…yeah, complicated.’ Mac just nodded again, a little helplessly, and reached out and put a hand on Bozer’s shoulder in comfort. Bozer sighed and spoke. ‘Promise not to tell Jack, not yet, bro?’

Mac nodded and held out his pinkie to Bozer. Bozer gave a little smile, and hooked his own pinkie around Mac’s, and they shook on it.

‘I promise, Boze.’

* * *

**DALTON AUTO REPAIR**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…Brother, I’m in a bit of pickle.’

_And then, it hit me._

_Oh, no._

_I’m starting to think that Doc might be onto something. I still don’t think I’m a magnet for improbable events, but these last couple of months have been full of them, and I have absolutely no logical explanation for it._

Mac was very, very grateful at that moment that he was underneath the 1969 Dodge Charger that was Jack’s latest personal project (Mac had stopped by after work on Jack’s request to help him out with an issue with the suspension), because as a result, Jack didn’t see his face, or else he’d probably have inadvertently broken his promise to Bozer.

Jack continued, as Mac watched the older man’s booted feet pace around through the gap between the car and the floor.

‘Mac, brother, Diane’s daughter…the girl who was kinda you before I met you, in the whole took-you-under-my-wing sense, she…she’s Bozer’s hacker friend who used to hate him.’ Jack paused. ‘I know I should tell them all the truth and everything…but…I don’t think Riley’s willing to forgive me, and you know how she and Bozer are stuck working together and how they had that whole situation, and I don’t know how she’s gonna take the fact that me and Bozer are friends…’ Jack plonked himself on the ground, and Mac felt that he now had his expression under control, so he rolled out from beneath the car and patted Jack’s arm consolingly. Jack turned to him with a little smile. ‘Thanks, brother. Can you not tell Bozer about all this, for now? I need to come up with a plan of action…’

Mac nodded.

‘I promise, Jack.’

_I know, I know, I know._

_I’ve watched plenty of movies. I live with Bozer and we’ve been best friends since the 5 th grade._

_I know getting yourself into this kind of situation never ends well._

_But what else could I possibly do?_

_They’re my two best friends._

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

That night, Mac rubbed the back of his neck as he sat in bed, lost in thought.

He was sort-of stuck between a rock and a hard place, with Jack and Bozer’s situations and the promises he’d made to both of them.

He thought that he should urge both of them to tell the other the truth as soon as possible, and then convince both of them to tell both Diane and Riley the truth.

_There is really no way that this can’t all come to light without there being some yelling and complications of some sort, surely._

_But I think that this is better than all the other options._

_I think…_

_Look, I can probably work out how to put a square peg into a round hole, at least, in the way that they did with Apollo 13, which was sort-of cheating, but social problems aren’t my strong suit._

Mac glanced down at his phone on his bedside table.

_Maybe I should get a second opinion…_

He picked up his phone.

**Hey, Doc, can I get some advice?**

Mac knew that Doc had tomorrow off, and the day after too (a real luxury for the doctor), as they’d planned to discuss the results of Mac’s experiments regarding the stiletto heels that night, but Mac hoped that Doc would A, forgive him for asking for advice instead, and B, would be able to actually give him some advice. A second opinion.

**If you’re willing to postpone our discussion regarding the potential lethality of stiletto heels, this has got to be bad!**

**What’s wrong?**

Despite his preoccupation and concerns, Mac gave a little smile anyway. Doc, he’d found, had a somewhat dark, make-light-in-the-darkness sense of humour, which according to him, was common among ER doctors, just as it was among soldiers in Mac’s experience.

Then, the smile faded as he started typing.

**A couple of months ago, Longhorn started dating an ex-girlfriend again. Said ex-girlfriend has a daughter, who is a co-worker of Samwise whom he has a slightly complicated relationship with (they were friends, then there was a misunderstanding and they hated each other for a while, now they’re friends again).**

**They’ve both just discovered that connection independently, and both told me and made me promise not tell the other one (I’m keeping those promises, of course).**

**Neither of them knows that the other one knows. I don’t think either the ex-girlfriend or her daughter know.**

**I want to tell Longhorn and Samwise to tell the truth, to everyone involved. This is going to be messy, no matter what – there’s a lot of history with Longhorn, his no-longer-ex and Samwise’s co-worker - I figured it would be best that the truth comes out as quickly as possible and everyone is honest…**

**But I’m not so good at this sort of thing. I’m worried I’m going to make it worse by trying to make it better, so…what do you think, Doc?**

Doc took a while to reply, which Mac figured was because A, it was a complicated situation that required much consideration, B, there was only so fast Doc could text, and C, in hindsight, Doc might not have been the best person to ask; since they had so much in common, he might not be so good with these things either (genius IQs tended to come with lower EQs, after all).

(But who else could he ask? Penny would be another option, but she wasn’t so good with secrets, and besides, she might well be too close to this, like he was.)

**That is a really complicated and highly improbable situation…definitely movie or soap opera worthy!**

**With the caveat that I am not very good at this sort of stuff either, I think you’re right. The sooner the truth is out, the better, and far better for them to tell the truth then wait for the no-longer-ex and her daughter/Samwise’s co-worker to work it out.**

**But maybe get them to tell the truth gently? With food as a buffer?**

Mac nodded. Food was a good idea. It was an excellent social lubricant.

**Yeah, it is a really, really improbable chain of coincidences. My life is not usually full of those, I swear. It’s just been the last couple of months!**

**Thanks, Doc. The food is an excellent suggestion, I’ll make sure that happens.**

Feeling much lighter, Mac resolved to talk to Jack and Bozer the next day, and grinned as he typed out another message.

**Now, do you want to hear all about my experimental results, or are you going to sleep now?**

Mac’s grin widened as he got Doc’s reply, and he shifted into a more comfortable position and started texting back.

**Like there’s even a choice there!**

**What did you find was more important in terms of determining depth of penetration, angle or force?**

* * *

**DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

She had to tell Jack. She had to tell Riley. In person, the very next time she saw them.

There was no other choice, really.

Diane could only hope that any animosity her baby girl felt towards Jack wouldn’t damage her friendship and work partnership with Bozer.

She knew how big this FBI case was for her daughter’s career.

More importantly, she also knew that Riley truly did value her friendship with Bozer, and Diane didn’t want Riley to lose (or, more accurately, push away) someone she cared about because of this.

For far too long, she’d been the only person that Riley had loved, and as much as she loved their close relationship, it had saddened her greatly that Riley had so few people she could call _family._

Now that Riley had Sam and Bozer, Diane didn’t want her to lose either of them.

* * *

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

For so long, Jack had seemed so far away.

Like he’d walked out of their lives and walked all the way to Alaska or dug a tunnel to China or something.

(And that was kind of true – he’d gone over to Afghanistan three days after that fateful night, after all.)

He’d seemed unreachable.

Been literally unreachable.

(He’d refused all contact with them, ignoring calls, texts, emails and even the solitary old-fashioned letter that Riley had sent him that she wasn’t even sure her mom knew she’d sent.)

And then, even when they’d come back to LA, lived in the same city as him (at least, they’d assumed he hadn’t left LA, even though Riley’s clandestine check-up on his old condo had come up blank), he’d still seemed so _distant._

A figure in the past.

And then…her mom had literally collided with him in a supermarket.

And she’d unknowingly been listening to occasional stories told about him (always with fond exasperation) by Bozer for weeks.

He seemed so _close_ again.

Like she could, almost, reach out and touch him, figuratively speaking.

Riley’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, so she got up and opened it.

Beth stood on the other side, holding a Tupperware container, the air vent in the lid popped, emitting a wonderful smell. Riley’s neighbour smiled up at her.

‘Hi, Riley.’ She gave a slightly awkward little shrug. ‘I’ve got two days off, so I made apple pie, and I really shouldn’t eat a whole apple pie on my own, so…’ She held out the Tupperware container to Riley. ‘…I thought I’d give you half!’

Riley smiled back at her and reached out and took the container.

Thinking would be far better with pie.

Most things were better with pie, and Riley knew Beth made excellent blueberry pie, so it stood to reason she’d make great apple pie too.

And it smelled incredible.

‘Thanks, Beth. Enjoy your two days off!’

The doctor’s smile widened.

‘Thanks, Riley! I hope you enjoy the pie!’

With a little wave, she headed back next door, and Riley closed the door and went to the kitchen to grab a fork and plopped herself back down on the couch, before digging into the still-warm pie, straight out of the Tupperware container, and getting lost in her thoughts yet again.

* * *

(She ate the entire half of an apple pie that Beth had given her and wound up skipping dinner because she was too full.)

(She had no regrets.)

(The apple pie was amazing.)

(And it’d helped with her thinking – she’d decided what she had to do.)

* * *

**THE CHALLENGER CLUB**

**(JACK’S GYM)**

**(IT’S VERY POPULAR AMONG A CERTAIN CROWD…)**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

Jack nodded a greeting to Cynthia, a former Air Force pilot who ran the gym along with her husband Scott, and headed towards the punching bags, wrapping his hands as he walked.

He took up position in front of one of the bags, took a deep breath and centred himself, then started punching, losing himself in the familiar motions, in that rhythm, in the exertion.

* * *

Unbeknownst to him, Jack was being watched.

A slim blonde woman was running the Special Forces-style obstacle course in the centre of the room, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

Sam knew the names of all of her fellow regulars, and Jack was definitely a regular.

From what she’d heard around the gym, he’d been working out here for over two years, ever since he’d gotten home from the Sandbox and recovered enough from the injuries he’d sustained over there.

She’d seem him limp a little a few times; his left knee was a bit dodgy, and he wore a brace on his right wrist and the knee, but otherwise, he moved very well.

Sam knew he definitely could be deadly if he wanted to be.

She also knew that this Jack was Riley’s Jack. The man who was the closest thing to a father Riley had ever had. The man who’d protected Riley and Diane from Ellwood, and then walked straight out of their lives immediately afterwards. The man who’d, in an extremely improbable incident, stumbled back into their lives.

(That was something that she’d only realized a couple of days ago, when all the pieces clicked into place.)

She also knew that Bozer was friends with him, close friends, and that both he and Riley were aware of the connection, though neither was aware that the other knew.

(She was a behavioural expert, who knew them both well, especially Riley, who worked with them and socialized with them – she ate lunch with Bozer and Riley when her work allowed. It’d been child’s play.)

Watching Jack now, Sam knew that he knew of the connection too, though he also didn’t know that Riley and Bozer knew too.

And one didn’t need to be a behavioural expert to know that all three of them were very, very preoccupied with their newfound knowledge, and that there was the potential for this to end very badly.

* * *

Sam, now using a treadmill, watched as a slim, dark-haired woman, about the same age as Jack, approached him, and gestured elegantly with her head towards the sparring ring.

Jack nodded with a grin.

‘Ready for me to kick your ass, Patty?’ Patricia Thornton, D.A. and Jack’s regular sparring partner (as best as Sam could tell, their record was nearly 50:50, favouring Jack slightly, which was very impressive on the D.A.’s part), raised an eyebrow at him, and Jack just gave a snort of laughter. ‘Eh, I know you love me, Patty!’

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Thornton reached out a hand to help Jack off the mat.

‘Feeling better?’

Jack stared at her for a moment, before shaking his head rather fondly.

‘You always know, don’t you, Patty?’ He pointed at her. ‘You’ve got to be a real menace in the courtroom. Best in the business, right?’

She just smiled an enigmatic little smile at him, unwrapping her own hands before heading for the women’s locker room.

As she did, she made eye contact with Sam, and in that moment, Sam knew that the older woman somehow knew that she’d been watching, and that she also, somehow and even more bizarrely, knew of that very complicated situation that Jack, Riley, Diane and Bozer were now in.

(Sam had absolutely no idea _how_ , but she was sure that Patricia Thornton somehow _knew_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it all had to come to a head eventually…and yes, sort-of cliff-hanger, but this was the best place to end it! *Apologizes and attempts puppy-dog eyes*


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To InsanelyOkay – thank you! And hey, better late than never!

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

'…Wait, so you’ve known all along, man?’

‘You knew, too, brother?’

Bozer and Jack stared at each other across the dining table.

Well, both of them thought, that explained why Mac had (a little clumsily, but very determinedly) been nudging them to talk to the other and tell the truth about the whole complicated situation for the last couple of days.

That also explained why Mac had invited Jack over for dinner on the same night he’d told Bozer he was going shopping, as one of his co-workers had told him about a big sale on toasters at an appliances shop twenty miles away.

And that also explained why there were two large slices of apple pie sitting on the table in front of them, made by Mac according to his mom’s secret recipe that even her own father, Mac’s grandfather, hadn’t known, which after years of painstaking scientific trial-and-error, Mac had finally managed to reconstruct last year.

(Food was an excellent buffer and a great social lubricant.)

Both Jack and Bozer blinked, then burst into slightly hysterical laughter.

* * *

‘…We’ve got to tell them the truth, Jack.’

Jack nodded in agreement, but looked down and pushed some of his pie around with his fork.

‘Boze, there’s gonna be fall-out.’ He sighed, and for a moment, Bozer thought that Jack actually looked old. Like an old man, full of regrets. ‘I…I really hurt them both. Diane’s forgiven me…but…’ Jack sighed again, another regretful sound. ‘I hurt Riley even more, I reckon. I don’t know if she’s gonna to be able to forgive me and if she can’t, that’s gonna have blowback on you, man.’

Bozer just nodded and put down his fork, before leaning a little closer to Jack and speaking, a very wry little grin on his face.

‘Well, she hated me once, but we got over it, so the track record’s good.’ His expression grew more serious, softer, as did his voice. ‘Jack…Riley really wasn’t happy when you started dating Diane again.’ Jack nodded sadly, and Bozer waited for him to look back up at him before continuing, making eye contact with the older man. ‘But she does seem happy that her mom’s happy with you. That’s got to mean something, Jack.’

Jack stared at him a long moment, before reaching out to clasp Bozer’s shoulder in a gesture of thanks.

‘I hope you’re right, brother, hope you’re right.’

Bozer gave a little nod, before a smirk spread across his face and he gestured to himself with both hands.

‘Hey, I’m always right, man!’

Jack just snorted.

‘Oh, yeah, man? You know, I can list, like, twenty things that you’ve been wrong about in just the time I’ve known you, plus there’s all the stories Mac’s told me…’

* * *

**DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

‘…I don’t know, Mom…’ Riley leaned her head back against her mom’s shoulder, as Diane reached up to stroke her fingers through Riley’s hair in that way that her baby girl had always found soothing. When Riley had shown up at her door for their weekly get-together, Diane had been fully prepared to tell her daughter about the connection between Jack and Bozer, but had been beaten to it by her, which, admittedly, had made the situation somewhat easier. ‘…Maybe…maybe it’s time to talk to Jack.’ That was the conclusion that Riley had come to while eating Beth’s apple pie. ‘He’s…he’s not a bad guy.’ She’d recalled Sam’s advice with stark clarity that evening. ‘And Bozer speaks highly of him. That’s gotta count for something.’

She trusted Sam and her skills. This was Sam’s field.

And she trusted Bozer as a friend. She should trust that Bozer knew his friends well and picked them well too.

(Through his stories, Riley had gotten to know Jack a little again, all without knowing his true identity, and now that she knew, she looked back on those stories and could see those familiar little things that made Jack _Jack._ )

Diane kissed the top of her daughter’s head.

‘I think that’s an excellent idea, baby girl.’ She ran her fingers through Riley’s hair again. ‘Do you want me to arrange it?’

Riley shifted off her mom’s shoulder and nodded.

‘Yeah, that’d be great.’ She paused and thought for a moment. ‘Let me know when and where before you confirm it with Jack, I think Bozer should be there.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s involved in this really weird coincidence too.’

* * *

‘Do…do you want me to go?’

Bozer, glancing between Jack, Riley and Diane, very, very aware of that heavy, deep sense of history there, spoke up a little hesitantly.

(He and Jack had headed over to Diane’s condo one Saturday morning, after a series of somewhat awkward text messages between them all had established that they were all aware of the very strange coincidences that connected them. For some reason, Riley had insisted that he come along despite the fact that he thought his presence was unnecessary, given that he wasn’t involved in any of the history.)

Riley looked over at him, her eyes a little wide. There was something vulnerable, almost pleading in them, with a hint of fear.

‘No, stay.’ Her voice softened, and became vulnerable, almost pleading. ‘Please.’

Bozer just gave a little nod, and they all awkwardly stared at each other, sitting in the living room, a very serious mood around them that even Jack didn’t try to break with a moment of levity.

Eventually, it was Jack who spoke, voice a little hoarse.

‘I...I’m so sorry, Riley.’ He swallowed. ‘So sorry.’

Riley stared at him for a long, long moment, before looking down.

‘You’d never have found us.’ They’d moved to Seattle, changed all their contact details, and she’d used her computer skills to help hide them, so that Ellwood wouldn’t find them. Jack was definitely no hacker; he’d never have managed to locate them. ‘But…but I kept an eye out to see if you’d try.’ She swallowed, glancing up at Jack, who looked like he might be close to tears, before looking at her feet again. ‘If you’d tried…I’d have reached out to you, Jack. Let you find us.’ She looked up again, looking Jack in the eye. ‘I needed you to try, Jack.’ She stumbled over her next few words, her voice soft and confessional. ‘You were the closest thing I ever had to a father. So I needed you to try.’

Jack swallowed again, really, really looking as if he might cry, and his voice was very rough and hoarse with emotion as he spoke again, looking Diane, and then Riley, in the eyes.

‘I never thought I was a good enough man for the two of you…’ He swallowed again, glancing between the two women again. ‘I’ve made my share of mistakes, more than my share, probably. Got a lot of regrets…but my biggest one…my biggest one is that I didn’t try and come back to you guys after that night.’ A wry expression crossed his face. ‘Even if all I got was kicked out again on my ass.’

That made Riley give a tiny little smile, and Diane reached out and took her boyfriend’s hand. After a moment, Riley spoke, after a glance at Bozer, that same vulnerable, slightly pleading, slightly fearful look in her eyes. She looked back over at Jack.

‘As for the not being good enough thing…Jack, I nearly went to prison for you.’

Jack and Bozer’s eyes widened, and Riley let out a tiny bit of the breath she’d been holding at the fact that they seemed far more shocked and surprised than horrified and repulsed, then kept speaking, telling a story that she had never, ever told anyone in full, except her mom.

A story that not even Sam knew all the details of.

(Sam knew that Riley was a black-hat who went straight after a run-in with the law. Riley had shared that with her after a few months of friendship. She was clever enough and good enough at her job that she had to know that that ‘run-in’ involved potential jail time that Riley had gotten out of by cutting a deal.)

(But Sam didn’t know how a hacker as good as Riley had gotten caught, even if she probably had a really good theory as to why.)

(After all, she was one of the best of the best – how could she have been caught in the first place?)

* * *

**ALMOST FIVE YEARS AGO**

**RILEY AND DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

Riley, sitting on her bed, stared at her laptop for a moment, before pulling it onto her lap and bringing up some photos, which unbeknownst to even her mom, she kept on her laptop, under three layers of encryption that she’d crafted herself.

She had no idea why she was even looking at these.

She decided to blame it on the combination of the fact that she’d just returned home from celebrating her graduation from CalTech, a semester early, with her mom and the couple of drinks she’d had with dinner.

Riley flicked through the photos; Jack trying to teach her and her mom how to fish, Jack and her at that Skeeball place eating horribly greasy pizza when she was twelve, Jack grinning like an idiot after he’d won an absurd amount of tickets thanks to her hacking the Skeeball machines (not that he knew it)…

After a few minutes, Riley ran a hand through her hair, put her laptop down, and rummaged under her bed for a moment. She pulled out a mug and a bottle of whiskey and poured herself more than a generous measure, before returning to looking at those photos.

Part of her, very, very deep down, so far deep down, it would never, ever see daylight, really, really wished, more than anything, that Jack had been there to see her graduate.

Riley swigged down another mouthful of whiskey.

* * *

Half an hour and a third of a bottle of whiskey later, Riley was deep into the Defence Manpower Data Centre’s servers.

She was also really drunk and rather teary-eyed.

Jack hadn’t tried to find them.

But tonight, she was determined to find him.

Whatever it took.

She’d hacked the Pentagon just to see if she could; this should be child’s play.

* * *

**THE PRESENT**

**DIANE’S RESIDENCE**

**LA**

* * *

‘…Hacking while drunk and emotionally unstable is a really, really bad idea. I got caught. The D.A. who had my case offered me a deal: give up all black-hat activities forever and go work for the FBI on probation, or go to prison. I chose the FBI.’

Jack wiped the corners of his eyes, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke.

‘Riles…’ He slipped completely unconsciously into the old nickname. ‘…can I give you a hug?’

Jack was very much a hugger. Riley had always been less enthusiastic about his hugs than he was.

But she gave a little nod and stood, so Jack did the same, opening his arms, then wrapping them around her in a good old Jack Dalton bear hug. Riley tucked her head into his shoulder, just like she had all those years ago.

From across the room, Diane and Bozer shared a fond, happy smile.

* * *

A little while later, as Bozer, with Riley as his assistant, made lunch in the kitchen, Jack, sitting on the couch, put an arm around Diane and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

‘You knew, didn’t you?’ He paused and explained further. ‘That I regretted leaving that night and regretted not trying to come back even more, and that Riley would forgive me if I could just tell her that…’

Diane leaned back a little, that all-seeing look in her eyes, and simply nodded with a small, soft smile.

‘If I hadn’t, I’d never have given you my number.’ She paused. ‘And if I hadn’t suspected, I’d never have had coffee with you the first time, or invited you back the next week.’ Her smile became a bit more of a smirk as Jack shook his head, a gesture full of fondness and a little wonderment. ‘I know my baby girl, and you’ve never been very good at being enigmatic, Jack Dalton.’

Jack maintained that he was completely capable of putting up a mysterious façade if he wanted to.

Diane simply had always been able to see through it.

She’d always been able to see _him._

* * *

‘I’m sorry.’

Bozer, who was marinating some chicken thighs (he was making chicken enchiladas, since that was the best he could come up with using what Diane had in her fridge, freezer and pantry), looked up at Riley, confused.

‘What are you apologizing for?’ He studied her face for a moment, and shook his head. ‘Riley, you’ve got _nothing_ to apologize for.’

Riley looked away from him for a moment, looking back down at the tomatoes she was chopping up for the salsa. Then, she spoke again, vulnerability in her voice and posture, or at least as much vulnerability as Riley would ever allow.

(She didn’t care what most people thought of her, not at all.)

(Sure, she didn’t want them all to know all about her past, but their gossip – half-right, usually – did not bother her.)

(But Riley had always cared what those who mattered thought of her.)

(Bozer mattered.)

(Given how vitally important his answer to the question she was about to ask felt…maybe he mattered more than she’d thought, or more than she was willing to admit, even to herself, a little corner of her brain told her.)

‘Knowing the truth about me, about my past, what I used to do now…if you’d known, would you still have eaten lunch with me on my first day?’

She looked up at him, looking into his eyes, and Riley was completely sure that Bozer understood what she was asking: does knowing the truth change the way you see me? Do you still want to be friends?

(Bozer was _good_. Had been good his whole life. Was one of those people that that innate goodness rolled off in waves.)

(Riley was sure, Riley _knew_ , that she wasn’t one of those people.)

Bozer nodded very resolutely.

‘Yeah, yeah of course I would, Riley!’ He shrugged. ‘I kinda suspected anyway; I tried not to listen to the rumours, but…’ He shrugged again. ‘I still heard them.’ He paused again, washing his hands, then took a couple of steps closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Riley turned a little to face him. ‘You know, when I was about fifteen, I fell in with the wrong crowd. I started getting into trouble, and I would have kept getting into trouble, if it wasn’t for Mac.’ Bozer paused for a moment, a soft little smile growing on his face as he reminisced, before continuing. ‘He reminded me who I really was, that all I needed to be was me.’ He paused and looked her very seriously in the eye. ‘Do you still wanna be friends with me?’

Riley simply nodded, seeing exactly where this was going, but feeling very reassured anyway.

(Bozer, she thought, might not understand completely, not 100% - she’d bet very good money that the trouble he’d gotten into was nowhere near the trouble she’d gotten into – but in a very Bozer fashion, he tried very, very hard and was very accepting, and that was more than enough, really.)

Bozer continued, expression brightening at her nod.

‘We’re not that different, Riley…I needed a push to get back on the right path. I was lucky I got it early.’ He squeezed her shoulder. ‘I think you had to wait a little longer, until that D.A. offered you that deal.’ He shrugged again, taking his hand off her shoulder and giving a wry smirk. ‘Besides, who doesn’t love a good redemption arc?’

Riley gave a snort of laughter and socked him lightly in the arm, before reaching out and hugging him. Bozer stiffened a little in surprise, before relaxing and hugging her back. Riley, her head tucked over his shoulder, smiled.

‘Thanks, Bozer.’

He smiled too.

‘Anytime, Riley, anytime.’

* * *

**THE CHALLENGER CLUB**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

‘…Got you.’ The slim blonde woman, Cage, another regular who’d started working out at The Challenger Club about a year ago, smirked down at Jack, whom she had pinned to the mat. She’d sauntered up to him about thirty minutes ago, challenging him to a sparring match, and he’d accepted. (He’d never been good at resisting a challenge, and besides, Patty was in court – a special session, since it was Sunday morning - and wouldn’t be at the gym that day.) They’d settled on best of three, and while he’d won the first bout, she’d just won the second. Cage’s smirk widened a little, and she leaned down so that her nose was just an inch from his. ‘You know…maybe we should skip Round Three, at least for now…go get a drink or two, let our hair down…’

Her voice was distinctly flirtatious, and Jack just put his hands up and pulled away from her as best as he could, shaking his head.

‘Woah, stop there, Cage! I’m very flattered, but I’ve got a girlfriend, we’re very happy together…’ He paused and looked a little horrified. ‘Besides, you’re almost young enough to be my daughter.’

Sam’s face broke into a small but genuine smile, and she got up and offered Jack a hand to help him to his feet. Jack, meanwhile, looked a little disturbed and concerned.

‘Uh…Cage…what’s going on?’

Sam crossed her arms, looking Jack dead in the eye.

(Riley had told her all about how she’d decided to listen to what Jack had to say, as well as about the improbable connection – not that she needed telling, and Riley knew that, but they were friends, and Sam listened to her friends when they spoke, even if she already knew what they were going to say – and she’d texted her last night to say that it had gone excellently. Sam also knew that Riley and Diane were both very tough women, and would not hesitate to kick Jack back out of their lives if he hurt either of them. Still, Sam thought, a little shovel talk couldn’t hurt, and Riley _was_ her best friend.)

‘My first name is Samantha. Sam. I’m Riley’s best friend.’ She fixed him with a look that had terrified many a suspect. ‘If you hurt her or Diane…you’ll be starting a war you can’t win, Jack.’ She pinned him with that look for a moment longer. ‘Got it?’

He nodded and gave a little salute, eyes serious, with a hint of something happy in there, happy that Riley had someone who cared enough about her to do this on her behalf.

‘Crystal clear, ma’am.’

Sam smiled.

* * *

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

Sam, after leaving the gym, headed straight to Riley’s. She hesitated for a moment, just outside Riley’s door, hand raised to knock.

She’d known now for a little over a week that Jack from The Challenger Club was Riley’s Jack. Maybe she should have told Riley earlier, once she’d worked it out, but honestly, she also knew that that would have done nothing but make the whole situation, as complicated as it had been then, worse. Or maybe she should have told her last night, after Riley had texted her, but Sam felt (both personally and professionally) that this was something that should be done in person. 

Still, she suspected Riley might be a little angry, which she also had the right to be.

There was nothing else for it.

She’d made her bed, she had to lie in it.

Sam knocked on the door.

* * *

Riley opened the door a moment later, brow furrowed.

‘Sam?’

Sam simply gestured inside.

‘Can I come in?’ Riley nodded, stepping aside to let her in, brow still furrowed. Sam closed the door behind her, before looking Riley dead in the eye and speaking. ‘Jack, _your_ Jack, goes to my gym.’

The first emotions that flickered across Riley’s face were shock and surprise (not surprising at all, given the whole string of improbable coincidences that had happened), followed by a little bit of hurt and anger.

‘How long have you known?’

‘About a week.’

Riley, after a moment of silence, gave a little nod, followed by a wry smile.

‘Guess there hasn’t been a good time for you to tell me that, has there?’

Sam returned that wry smile.

‘No.’ Her smile fell away. ‘But I’m sorry, Riley.’

Riley turned to face her, a softer expression on her face.

‘It’s okay, Sam.’ She studied Sam’s face for a moment, then that wry look returned and she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to her left leg. ‘What did you do to him? Do I need to text my mom and tell her that she’s going to be playing Florence Nightingale?’

The blonde woman chuckled, crossing her arms too.

‘I’ll make a profiler of you yet.’ A hint of a smirk crossed her face. ‘I put him through his paces and gave him a shovel talk. The only thing that could be wounded is his pride.’ Her expression grew more serious. ‘He’s a good guy, Riley. A really good guy. He really cares about your mom, and you.’

Riley just gave a little nod, smiling softly and staring at the wall, into the distance for a moment, before turning back to Sam.

‘I know.’ She didn’t need to have Sam’s skills to know that, not at all. Then, after another moment of silence, Riley spoke again, her voice a little softer, a note of vulnerability in there, a touch of fear. Fear of rejection, Sam thought. ‘I told him and Bozer the whole story of how I wound up working for the FBI.’ She glanced at Sam. Sam was her best friend. Sam had given Jack a shovel talk on her behalf. She should know the truth, the whole truth. ‘How I tried to hack the DMDC on my graduation night to find him, got caught because I was drunk and emotional, the deal the D.A. offered me…’

Riley trailed off, and Sam had the sudden realization, the sudden suspicion, that that D.A.’s name was Patricia Thornton (that explained why Thornton had known, though it was yet another highly improbable coincidence in the chain). After a moment’s silence, she spoke, that same vulnerability, raw honesty, in her voice as there’d been in Riley’s, something that removed that touch of fear in Riley’s eyes.

‘I got discharged from the CIA because I went rogue. I went on an unsanctioned mission in Syria to rescue a Navy SEAL who’d looked out for me when I first got sent over to the Sandbox…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a satisfying resolution? Did you like Cage shovel-talking Jack?


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, for reasons that will become clear, is dedicated to Sira.

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Mac laughed and shook his head as Bozer (Mario) and Penny (Princess Peach) raced each other around Rainbow Road. Penny had just hit Bozer with a Blue Shell, much to his frustration. Jack, too, chuckled, watching far more intently than Mac, since he’d be racing the winner of this race.

His phone chimed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

**I had a great day off, thanks for asking! Got my week’s shopping done, cooked a week and a half’s worth of meals, did some exercise, and best of all, I made a pumpkin pie!**

Mac smiled as he read Doc’s message, brow furrowing.

_Why is Doc making pumpkin pie? It’s the middle of October; Thanksgiving isn’t for another six weeks…_

**That’s good! But I think you’re mixing up your holidays, Doc. Thanksgiving isn’t for another 6 weeks, it’s Halloween that’s coming up!**

There was a flurry of commotion (‘Good move, brother! Now go get her!’), as Bozer hit Penny with an excellently-placed banana peel, though Mac didn’t pay it much attention, as Doc responded immediately.

**Firstly, pumpkin pie is amazing and hence should be a socially-acceptable foodstuff all year round! Secondly, it’s a SPOOKY pumpkin pie for Halloween. I’m practicing!**

A moment later, a photo followed the text.

It did indeed show a piece of pumpkin pie decorated with a rather excellent meringue ghost.

However, that was not the most interesting thing in the photo.

The interesting part was the fact that the plate with the pie on it was resting on Doc’s lap, and Doc was stretched out on the couch, assumedly texting Mac and eating pie.

Well, that wasn’t exactly the interesting part.

The interesting part was really that Doc was wearing pink chequered pyjama pants and (assuming that the couch was of a reasonably standard size) was rather short with dainty feet and toenails painted lavender.

‘Huh.’ Mac’s expression grew surprised, his brows rising. ‘Improbable really is the name of the game.’

Jack turned to him, brow furrowing.

‘What’s improbable, brother?’

Mac simply held out his phone screen to Jack, so he could see the photo on it.

‘Doc’s a woman.’ And with that brief explanation, delivered nonchalantly, though still a little surprised, Mac got up off the couch, pocketing his phone and heading to the kitchen. As a result, he didn’t see both Princess Peach and Mario go rocketing off the edge of Rainbow Road as the two people behind the controls stopped paying attention to the game. Bozer, Jack and Penny all exchanged significant looks, which also went unnoticed by Mac, who was now holding the popcorn maker ( _Mario Kart_ was even better with popcorn) and studying it with his thinking face on. ‘You know, wouldn’t it be nice if the popcorn maker could make the popcorn automatically, then deliver it to the couch?’ The other three all stared at him (Bozer had at least managed to pause the game), eyebrows raised in disbelief. Sure, Mac could be really oblivious, but he also had an IQ a couple of points higher than Einstein’s…could he really be _this_ oblivious? They got their answer a moment later; he apparently could, because he completely misinterpreted their looks of disbelief and raised the hand not holding the popcorn maker reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll still get your popcorn, I won’t start taking it apart tonight…’

Jack, Bozer and Penny responded by all face-palming, before sharing a fond, but _extremely, extremely_ exasperated look and head-shakes.

Mac, of course, did not notice all of that either, since he was now rummaging around in the pantry for the popcorn.

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

Six weeks after that day at Diane’s, Bozer reached out to bump his fist against Riley’s, as the two of them grinned.

They’d finally made a major breakthrough in their quest to take down The Organization. They’d finally found an account through which all the money eventually passed, the centre of the web, so to speak. Now, they just had to track down the real identity of the account’s owner, then start tracking down all their associates, so they could take down the whole organization for good.

Bozer glanced at his watch.

‘Woah, we got good timing!’

They had thirty minutes before their 17th weekly update with Matty, and she liked to see results. They had just enough time to prepare a briefing for her on their big breakthrough.

To celebrate their good timing, Bozer held out his hand for another fist-bump.

Riley shook her head, but it was a fond, exasperated gesture, and bumped her fist to Bozer’s anyway.

* * *

‘Good work.’ Matty nodded and gave a genuine, almost kind smile. Then, her expression changed a little, become more challenging and expectant, though there was some underlying current of genuine kindness, both Riley and Bozer swore. ‘Keep it up.’

With a nod, Matty dismissed them from her office, and Riley and Bozer walked out of the room.

Once they were out of Matty’s immediate ear-shot and sight, Bozer gave a rather smug smirk.

‘I think she likes us! She really, really likes us!’

Riley gave a snort.

‘Or she’s just happy that we’re making significant progress on taking down a major criminal organization.’ Then, she smiled a little wryly, tilting her head a little to the side. ‘Or maybe both.’

Bozer’s smirk widened and became more like a grin, and he pointed to her.

‘Definitely Option B; I like the way you think!’

* * *

**THE CHALLENGER CLUB**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

As Jack unwrapped his hands and unbuckled the brace he wore on his left knee, then the one on his wrist, Thornton, having already finished unwrapping her own hands, put a hand on his shoulder.

She smiled at him, a small, but genuine and almost-warm smile, something almost soft in her eyes.

‘I’m glad you’re happy, Jack.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You deserve it.’ Then, something sad flickered across her face. Something deeply sad, like it had settled into her bones and sealed off her heart. ‘You got a second chance. Don’t waste it.’

She stepped away from him, bending to pick up her boxing gloves, before starting to move towards the women’s locker room, but Jack reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to stay her.

‘I’m sorry, Patty. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I’m sorry.’

(She’d probably never tell him who she’d lost. They’d been sparring partners and friends of a sort for two years, but she was cool and closed-off by nature. Definitely not the sharing type.)

(Jack’s personal theory was that she’d lost the person she’d considered the love of her life to death, but then again, he was a bit of a romantic, so he could well be wrong.)

She gave a little nod, then gave a tiny, sadness-tinged smile.

‘Thanks, Jack.’

* * *

After a shower, Jack walked out of the gym, carrying his gym bag and a weekend bag. He located Diane’s car in the carpark (they were driving up to the Napa Valley for a romantic weekend away), and with a grin, walked up to it and opened the front passenger door, then sat down and leaned over for a hello kiss.

Diane’s eyes widened when they pulled away from each other and she caught sight of something over his shoulder. She quite suddenly got out of the car, gesturing for him to follow, seemingly a little lost for words.

Jack, brow furrowed in confusion, got out of the car too, as Diane walked up to Thornton, who’d walked out of the gym about thirty seconds after Jack.

‘Patricia Thornton?’ Diane walked up to her. ‘You wouldn’t remember me, but a few years ago, you gave my daughter, Riley Davis, a second chance.’ She paused again, voice full of emotion when she continued. ‘Thank you.’

Thornton gave a little smile and Jack shook his head as all the pieces fell into place. These improbable coincidences were really piling up, probably because there was something weird going on with Mercury and Neptune or something, even if Mac insisted that that was complete and utter garbage.

(Mr-Astrology-is-not-a-science-Jack couldn’t come up with any explanation for these really unlikely connections and chains of events, after all.)

‘I remember Riley. And I remember you.’ She paused, and her smile widened a little. ‘I only gave Riley a choice and a chance. She took it and made good use of it.’ Then, something wry crossed her face. ‘Hello again, Jack.’

He gave a wry smirk.

‘Hey, Patty. Real long time, no see.’

Diane looked between them for a moment, then realization dawned on her face, and she turned to Jack.

‘Your D.A. sparring partner is the same D.A. who changed Riley’s life.’ She made a sound of disbelief. ‘Small world…’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

**Well, Samwise calls it the Iron Dog incident.**

**When I was 13, I tried to build an exo-suit for my dog, Archimedes, Iron-Man style.**

**It took me 3 months (in my defence, I was A, 13, B, had to go to school/do chores etc., C, am not as brilliant as Tony Stark, D, did not have the whole build-this-or-die-because-I’m-a-prisoner-of-terrorists element driving me), and Archimedes really didn’t want to wear it (in hindsight, I don’t blame him – he was a really smart dog); he ran off about 20 times during that period.**

**(He was an escape artist; I should have named him Houdini, and I spent a lot of my childhood chasing him around the neighbourhood, but 20 times in 3 months was high even for him.)**

**The day I finished the exo-suit, he was, of course, nowhere to be seen. I tested it (without him in it, for safety reasons, as was the plan all along) and…well, Samwise and I got to practice our firefighting skills and I had no eyebrows for a while.**

Mac shook his head, a wry yet happy and amused smile on his face as he reminisced.

**On one hand – it is very awesome that you built that exo-suit!**

**On the other hand – thank goodness that Archimedes was so smart, and that you had the sense to not test it on him in the first place!**

**And all your childhood stories would concern me far more (I took the Hippocratic Oath, I’m obliged to be concerned about this sort of stuff, even if it is also really cool) if it wasn’t obvious that you suffered no lasting damage, you know!**

**As for the not-being-Tony-Stark thing – you know, if you were kidnapped by terrorists (touch wood you aren’t!), I’d have faith in you to get yourself out of trouble. I mean, if you built an Iron Dog suit (even an unsuccessful one) at 13…**

* * *

**Today was a very good day, thanks for asking. It was very slow and boring; the best kind of day in an ER!**

**The most interesting thing that happened, according to my work friends, is that one of our med-evac helicopter pilots asked me out. I turned him down, because I’m not interested, but they keep pointing out that I haven’t been on a date since my residency, and even then, it was only 2 first dates, and one was a blind date with a friend’s brother…you know how friends are. I’m concerned they might sign me up for some online dating sites now behind my back…**

Mac pushed down the completely irrational and utterly illogical feelings of jealousy and dislike of one of Huntington’s med-evac helicopter pilots (not that he even knew which one) that went through him so well that he didn’t even notice they were there. Instead, he just typed out a reply, without really having to think about it.

**Dating is weird, and hard.**

**Last year, Samwise signed me up for online dating. I met a woman, we went on 3 dates.**

**The first one was a movie in a cemetery, then the second was an escape room, and the third was a drive-in movie and dinner at a diner. (That’s the weird bit – what’s so romantic about movies in cemeteries or escape rooms? And if it’s not obvious, she planned the first two, I did the third.)**

Cindy was smart, beautiful and funny. They’d had two great dates, despite the weird and very unromantic nature of both, and Mac did admit that the cemetery-movie people had good taste (Hitchcock was a classic for a reason) and that the escape room had been fun, even if the presence of floppy discs (which had, admittedly, been useful) was very anachronous.

But something had just felt _off_ on their third date (to this day, he had no idea what it was), and they’d decided to end it there.

**I think that the cemetery thing is an excuse for ‘hold me, I’m scared’, though I don’t think most people need an excuse…and I think most people would probably enjoy being locked in a room, but not in any danger, with someone to whom they are attracted…though I suppose that kind of defeats the whole ESCAPE room bit…**

Mac gave a little chuckle as he read Doc’s reply. She was right; his and Cindy’s second date had cost her her perfect escape room record…though she’d told him at the awkward end of their third date that it’d been fun and thus worth it…

**That, Doc, is exactly what I thought. Great minds think alike! :P**

**As for the hard bit…I had a girlfriend when I was in the Army. We broke up 3 years ago, after being together for 2.**

**Being deployed, as you can imagine, puts strain on relationships. She cheated on me while I was gone, then left me for the other guy the day I got home. She picked me up from the airport, like nothing was wrong, but when we walked into our condo…her bags were all packed.**

**It blindsided me completely, she never mentioned anything being wrong, and we did talk about it, I knew it would be hard for her, me being away all the time, it was hard on me, being away from her…**

**Sorry, Doc, I think I’m throwing a pity party…**

He didn’t know why he’d decided to tell Doc about Nikki.

_Unsurprisingly, given how it ended, I don’t like talking about my last relationship, which was also, honestly, my only proper relationship._

_I love Penny, but the twenty-six days for which we dated when I was fifteen probably doesn’t count._

Things just went easily between him and Doc; it was easy to be completely himself and he didn’t think too much about anything he said. Didn’t have to, didn’t feel the need to.

His phone chimed again with Doc’s response.

**I think if your girlfriend leaves you the day you return from deployment, having cheated on you, for the other guy, without giving you any signs that something’s wrong, you’re allowed to throw a pity party!**

**And I’m so, so sorry...I really wish I could give you a hug right now!**

**And…well, it was DEFINITELY her fault, but as you said…relationships/dating can be hard sometimes.**

**(I had a boyfriend all through medical school, and I thought he was the one, if there’s such a thing. But doing our residencies at hospitals just 2 hours apart caused us to fall apart by the end of the first year.)**

**You know, maybe we could start a bad-at-dating club? I mean, as best as I can gather, between the two of us, we’ve been on a grand total of 5 dates in 3 years…**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, kids, as Jack would say, you could try something else, *hint, hint*. Oblivious!Mac is also another fun trope, so…


	10. Chapter 9

**MACGYVER’S FAVOURITE FISHING SPOT**

**LOCATION: TOP SECRET**

**(IT’S SOMEWHERE IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA)**

**(THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GETTING)**

* * *

Mac carefully checked the bait on his hook, then cast the line out, before settling back into his camping chair.

He and Jack (who also enjoyed fishing) had convinced Bozer to come fishing with them on this fine Saturday.

(It’d taken some persuading; Mac’s best friend was firmly of the opinion that fishing was boring.)

_Fishing is, admittedly, not the most stimulating of activities._

_But that’s really the point, at least for me._

_I find it meditative, calming._

_I think that’s something that Jack agrees with._

_Now, we’ve just got to get Boze to see it._

* * *

A little while later, Jack tossed a sandwich at him, which he’d pulled out of the freezer bag that had been packed by Bozer.

Mac caught the sandwich one-handed, which made both him and Jack grin, and then put his fishing rod down in one of the special holders he’d put together a few years ago. He unwrapped his sandwich and was just about to take a bite when Bozer, after glancing at Jack, spoke.

‘Bro, don’t you think it might be time to ask Doc to meet in person? Or ask her for her _name_ , at least?’

Jack pointed at Bozer and nodded in agreement.

Internally, Mac sighed. He was pretty sure they’d rehearsed this. Externally, he took a bite of his sandwich (a delicious homemade Reuben), chewed slowly and swallowed.

‘I like being friends with Doc.’ He emphasized the _friends_ bit, not really intentionally. He probably emphasized it too much; it sounded defensive in hindsight. He took another bite of his sandwich, chewed and swallowed. ‘What if we’re not as comfortable in person? What if it isn’t so easy in person?’ He turned to Jack and Bozer for a moment, before staring out at the water. He picked up a stone from the ground, and skipped it over the lake. It skipped eight times before sinking. ‘What if it’s the medium?’

He really valued his friendship with Doc, weird as it was. He liked talking about just about anything and everything, from mad science and childhood stories and the latest articles in her favourite medical journals to how dating was weird or the best kind of bagel or their favourite kinds of pie or their days at work.

He didn’t want to lose it.

Jack looked over at him, something rather wise and reassuring and _seeing_ in his eyes.

‘Or maybe it’s you two, brother.’ He paused and pointed at Mac. ‘You’re never gonna find out if you keep doing this texting-only thing, Mac.’

Mac looked into Jack’s eyes for a moment, seeing the truth reflected in them, before sighing and looking out over the water again. He ate some more sandwich as he marshalled the nebulous web of thoughts in his mind into something more ordered, something that other people could understand.

‘She’s never expressed any interest in meeting up either. Or sharing names.’

That, Mac knew, sounded weak, even to his ears.

He was pretty sure that that was so because Doc, like him, didn’t want to do anything to possibly jeopardise their odd yet comfortable semi-anonymous friendship.

(He knew more than enough about her history, her experiences growing up – and understood them more than well enough, having gone through similar – to know that.)

He was also pretty sure that Doc’s friends (the ones who’d tried to get her to date that helicopter pilot, a little and not terribly nice voice in his brain that he generally refused to listen to said) were having conversations with her that were similar to the one that Jack and Bozer were currently trying to hold with him.

Jack and Bozer just exchanged a look, and Bozer grabbed sandwiches for both of them from the bag. They fell silent in an almost-expectant way, and Mac sighed again, ate another bite of sandwich, then finally spoke, voice quiet and confessional, which didn’t really match his words.

‘It’s called taking it slow.’

He admitted, right then and there for the first time, to himself, and by implication, to Jack and Bozer, that he had an interest in Doc, as much of an interest as one could have in a woman whose name you didn’t even know and whose face you’d never seen.

A voice in his head that sounded rather like his grandfather pointed out that he knew _her_ pretty well. She had, he knew, a brilliant intellect and a sweet, optimistic nature, but there was a fierceness to her too. He knew quite a number of little and seemingly inconsequential things about her, those little quirks that made a person a _person_ , like her great love for pie and fondness for being prepared.

Mac found he couldn’t quite ignore that voice.

Jack and Bozer exchanged another look as they chewed their own sandwiches, before Bozer spoke.

‘Mac, bro, this isn’t taking it slow…’

Jack nodded in agreement.

‘…This is going as slow as you can go without going in reverse, brother.’ Jack pointed at him. ‘You’ve been texting for _months._ You don’t know her name. You’ve never seen her face or heard her voice. That’s almost-reverse.’

Mac was silent for a while, finishing his sandwich as he stared out on the water.

Jack and Bozer exchanged a glance.

Ultimately, they both knew, this came down to Mac’s relatively substantial self-esteem issues, which in turn stemmed from everything from the childhood bullying he’d endured that Bozer had done his best to protect him from, to being different and not fitting in his entire life, to his dad leaving, to being shot down cold by Darlene Martin and even to Nikki leaving him that terrible day.

Mac really, really valued his friends, the people he’d made his family. That, they knew, was at least partially the product of said self-esteem issues, as tragic as that fact was.

The problem with that was that Mac wasn’t willing to take a risk now.

He wasn’t willing to take a chance, not willing to take a risk that Jack and Bozer were both firmly convinced was very much worth it, and was nowhere near as big as Mac probably thought it was.

He and Doc now had months of bizarre ( _really_ bizarre; Bozer had walked in on Mac stabbing pieces of pork with high heels all because of a chat he was having with Doc) semi-anonymous text-message friendship on their side. They clearly had plenty in common.

There was definitely more than enough there for a solid, real-world friendship, and more friends, good, real, true friends, were always a good thing.

As for being more than friends…well, Mac was handsome enough to be a Hollywood star (even if he’d never believe anyone who told him that), and Doc was a living, red-blooded woman who played for the right team, so that had to count for something.

Jack leaned over and put a hand on Mac’s shoulder, putting down his sandwich as he did so.

‘We’re not saying you should ask her on a date, brother.’ Bozer made a little noise of protest, but Jack shut him up with a look, thankfully before Mac, lost in thought, could notice. ‘Just…maybe get her name, meet up in a café, get some coffee and cake and have a chat. Friends do that, Mac. You’re friends, even if you’ve got this weird anonymous text-only thing going on.’ Jack shrugged and looked him solidly in the eye. ‘We’re not gonna try and make you date her, Mac. Maybe you’ll meet up and realize that you’re not into each other that way.’ Bozer, to his credit, managed to simply nod in agreement that time, possibly thinking of his and Riley’s saga. Jack squeezed Mac’s shoulder. ‘Brother, we’re just trying to get you to let that be a possibility, give it a fighting chance.’

Mac held eye contact with Jack for a moment, before making eye contact with Bozer, whose expression was somewhere between a smirk and a grin and shot him an encouraging double thumbs up.

Mac was pretty sure his roommate also mouthed _I ship it._

(He chose to ignore that.)

At that moment, there was a tug on Mac’s fishing line, and he picked it up to start that age-old battle with the fish that’d taken the bait, speaking as he did so.

‘It’d be pie, not cake.’ He shrugged, a soft, fond little smile on his face that he wasn’t fully conscious of. ‘She’s very insistent that pie is a better dessert than cake.’ The smile widened, a hint of wryness appearing. ‘She’s firmly insistent that pie is the world’s best foodstuff, actually.’

Jack and Bozer just exchanged a rather exasperated look.

Based on this text-message-only friendship, they supposed that it _could_ go either way.

Mac and Doc could be more-than-friends, or just friends (not that that was _inferior_ , just different).

But they were convinced that the smart money should definitely be on more-than-friends.

Mac, busy reeling in the fish, did not notice the looks on their faces.

(Of course he didn’t.)

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Mac shook his head in fond amusement as Bozer gesticulated wildly and lectured Jack in the kitchen. His roommate was trying to teach the older man how to prepare an array of game-day snacks.

_How is it going?_

_Well, I think the less I say about it, the better…_

Jack was over at their place, since, as he did every year the week before the Super Bowl, he was attempting to teach Mac and Bozer to properly appreciate football.

_And the less said about that too, the better._

_We’ll watch the Super Bowl with him next week, of course – A, it’s the Super Bowl, and B, and more importantly, it matters to Jack._

_But if I have to listen to one more lecture about the superiority of the Cowboys…_

Mac’s phone beeped, and with a smile, he looked down and read Doc’s text, chuckling as he did so.

**No, I’m not a football fan. I don’t even have a team that I pretend to support! ;)**

**Well, don’t ever mention that to Longhorn; he’ll declare you a Cowboys fan by default…**

Mac stilled for a moment, thinking back to that conversation he’d had with Jack and Bozer when they’d gone fishing a couple of weeks ago. He hesitated a moment, his fingers hovering in an unconscious pattern over the screen of his phone. Then, he came to a decision and typed and sent the message before he could second-guess himself.

**Doc, do you think it’s weird that we’ve been talking for months, but don’t know each other’s names?**

The reply took a little bit longer than he expected, as if she was considering or hesitating a little bit too. He was about as sure as he could be, considering their situation, that she’d never asked his name for more or less the same reasons why he hadn’t asked for hers.

**I think it is weird, but then again, weird is kind of the ‘theme’ of this friendship…I like our weird!**

**But I wouldn’t be averse to having a proper name for you in my contacts at all!**

Mac smiled. He really liked their weird too. And he agreed that it would be nice to have something other than ‘Doc’ to call her. Operating mostly on impulse, he sent her another message.

**Can I call you?**

**Go ahead!**

His smile widened, and he got up off the couch and headed into his room, feeling oddly nervous (but in a good way) in a way that he wasn’t willing to analyse.

In the kitchen, Jack and Bozer exchanged a significant look, and Bozer reached out and grabbed two glasses from the cupboard.

* * *

Once he’d closed the door, Mac sat down in his desk chair and pressed the little green phone icon, then raised his phone to his ear.

The phone had barely rung when it was answered.

‘Hi.’

He smiled and returned the greeting.

‘Hi.’

He could hear a smile in her voice when she responded.

‘I’m Beth, Beth Taylor.’

Without him really noticing, his smile widened.

‘Angus MacGyver. _Please_ call me Mac.’

That made her give a little giggle. It was a nice sound, he decided.

‘Duly noted, Mac.’

It was nice to have her use his name. Really nice. He tilted his head to the side a little and a small smirk crossed his face.

‘Elizabeth or Bethany?’

She gave a half-chuckle and he could hear the head-shake in her voice.

‘Bethany, thank goodness. I don’t think I could deal with Elizabeth Taylor jokes on top of Doogie Howser ones…though I suppose it might not be anywhere as near as much of an issue, since we don’t share a profession and I look nothing like her…’

Mac laughed, ignoring and boxing away that little voice in his brain that wondered what Beth looked like if she didn’t look like Elizabeth Taylor.

‘My friend Jack, the guy I’ve been calling Longhorn, makes really terrible jokes. Many of them involve puns. He’ll probably manage to make an Elizabeth Taylor joke about you anyway…’ He paused for a moment, voice a little softer when he spoke again. ‘It’s nice to have something better to call you than Doc.’

‘You’re labelled in my contacts as _The Spaghetti Engineer,_ Mac…’ Her voice sounded distinctly sheepish. ‘I think that’s worse.’

He laughed again, leaning back in his chair.

‘Well, both of them _are_ true, accurate descriptions, Beth…’

There was a pause for a moment before she responded.

‘You must have unusually long and/or thick vocal cords…’ He gave a snort of laughter (though he could really relate; sometimes, he thought out loud too, and it was true, he did have atypically large vocal cords). There was another pause, and her voice was sheepish and shy and a little hesitant when she spoke again. ‘…I said that out loud, didn’t I?’

He grinned, giving another half-snort of laughter.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m kind of awkward…’

Mac just gave a little shrug, not that she could see, still grinning.

‘We can be awkward together?’ He made a face. ‘That sounded better in my head…’

It was her turn to give a snort of laughter.

‘I think most things do…’

* * *

Meanwhile, Bozer and Jack had their ears pressed to a glass each, which were in turn pressed to Mac’s bedroom door, a little trick that Mac had taught Bozer years and years ago.

They exchanged a glance as they eavesdropped on Mac’s conversation with Doc (whom they supposed they now had to start thinking of as Beth).

Bozer sniffled.

‘He’s come such a long way since Darlene Martin…’

Jack made a face and muttered to himself.

‘And this is why it should be obvious he ain’t actually my son, people…no son of mine would be this not-suave…’

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

'…The entire organization is now in custody and ready for interrogation. We’ve got enough evidence to put them all away for a really long time.’ At their 29th and final weekly meeting, Matty smiled at them, a smile that both Bozer and Riley were convinced was genuine and without agenda. ‘Great work.’ She paused and there was something a little more wry or knowing in her smile. ‘You made a great team.’ That wry, knowing bit grew more prominent. ‘I think you’ll be working together more in the future.’

* * *

As they left Matty’s office at 5 pm on the dot, Riley grinned, and held out her fist to Bozer, who was grinning even wider. He reached out and bumped his own fist to hers, grin widening, if that was possible.

Riley’s own grin widened, and she shifted her weight onto her left leg as they stopped by their desks.

‘Wanna go grab burgers and hit an arcade to celebrate?’

He pointed at her, and she swore his grin got even wider.

‘You’re on.’ He smirked. ‘But I’m gonna kick your ass in DDR, don’t say I didn’t warn you…’

Riley smirked right back.

‘Guitar Hero and DDR, best of three in each, winner buys dinner?’

Bozer nodded eagerly.

‘You’re on!’

* * *

**BOZER’S FAVOURITE ARCADE**

**(RILEY’S NEW FAVOURITE ARCADE)**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

Bozer stared at the Guitar Hero machine’s screen as Riley put down the controller with a smirk.

She’d just set a new high score and completely smashed him in the Guitar Hero leg of their little bet, which he was now thinking hadn’t been a very well thought-out bet. They’d both clearly assumed, not thinking enough about it, that they could win both legs, and he was now thinking that they were probably both wrong.

Then, he shook his head rather fondly and pointed at her with a smile.

‘Hey, I knew you were queen of computers, you did not tell me that you’re a Guitar Hero queen too!’

Her smirk widened as a rush of warmth flowed through her at Bozer’s compliments, and she socked him lightly, affectionately, in the arm.

‘No backing out of our bet!’

Bozer just smirked.

‘Wouldn’t even think about it, Riley.’ His smirk widened and he puffed out his chest. ‘I’m gonna kick your ass in DDR!’

* * *

Bozer just smirked as he stepped off the DDR platform, Riley staring at him and the game, her mouth slightly agape.

He simply puffed out his chest and pretended to straighten an imaginary bow tie.

‘Second place in the Inaugural Official West Coast Alphabet Agency DDR Tournament.’

Riley gave a snort.

‘There was an _official_ tournament?’

Bozer looked a little sheepish.

‘Eh…well, maybe official is stretching it a little bit…’

She gave another snort and raised an eyebrow at him, as if to say _you think?_ Then, her brow furrowed.

‘Who came first?’

Bozer shook his head with a smile, losing himself in a memory for a moment.

‘A chick called Viv from the Seattle NSA office.’ Bozer gestured at the DDR machine. ‘Her DDR skills were as on-point as her eyeliner.’

* * *

**KILLER BURGERS**

**(AKA BOZER’S WORKPLACE FROM HIS COLLEGE DAYS)**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

‘Hey, Tommy! Mr Lind promoted you up to fries! Great work, man!’ Bozer grinned and waved at a teenager who was, indeed, working the fry station, as he pointed out his menu recommendations to Riley. ‘He’s Jack’s neighbour’s kid, he finally got promoted off mop duty…’ He pointed at a headlined burger on the menu. ‘Get the special, with extra pickles, mayo and barbecue sauce.’ Riley raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Trust me! When have I ever let you down when it comes to food?’

He never had.

Even those green cupcakes had been delicious.

Riley nodded with a little smile, and Bozer grinned and told the cashier to give them two specials with extra pickles, mayo and barbecue sauce, as well as a large order of the special, off-menu loaded fries.

When it was time to pay, both Bozer and Riley pulled out their wallets, both of them realizing at that moment that their little Guitar Hero/DDR competition had been a dead tie.

(In hindsight, it’d been a terribly thought-out bet.)

(Neither of them had been, they admitted, in the deepest, most secret corners of their minds, completely with it at the time it’d been made, both a little distracted.)

Riley pulled out her card first.

‘I’ll get this one, you can get next time.’ She shrugged, ignoring that funny, warm, slightly-fluttery feeling she got when Bozer grinned at her like she’d just made his day with the mention of _next time_ , rather than the whole taking-down-the-bad-guys-we’ve-been-chasing-for-months being the best thing that’d happened all day. ‘We should hang out more outside of work.’

He pointed at her, that same, almost-childlike, happy, carefree grin still on his face.

‘Now _that’s_ the best idea you’ve had all week.’

Given that she’d had a really, really good idea that’d helped them to catch the kingpin of The Organization on Monday, that really made that warm feeling grow stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone makes progress! Yay! I have to say, Jack and Bozer weren’t supposed to eavesdrop on Mac and Beth’s conversation…but then I got the mental image of the two of them trying to listen through Mac’s door, and I couldn’t get it out of my head!


	11. Chapter 10

**EDGE OF AN INDUSTRIAL PARK**

**NEAR A BRIDGE**

**EAGLE ROCK**

**LA**

* * *

‘…I read about them online last month…’

Bozer gestured to their surroundings as Riley spoke.

‘Exactly! So you’ll know about their whole super-secretive-thing-that-is-surprisingly-really-good-for-business-‘cause-of-the-hype!’

Riley looked around sceptically.

‘Yeah, but I really don’t think we’re going to find a food truck selling the best Philly cheesesteaks outside of Philly in this _particular_ industrial estate, Bozer.’ She gestured to their surrounds as they made their way towards the bridge. ‘Why would they pick _this_ one over any other of the hundreds of other industrial estates in LA?’

Bozer put a hand on his chest, over his heart, affecting a wounded expression.

‘Riley, come on! As if I’d drag you here without some good inside knowledge!’ He smirked and looked rather smug. ‘I’ve got a contact.’

He said that as if he were some kind of super-spy and the contact would help them take down Kim Jong-Un or something like that.

Riley shook her head, still a little sceptical, but also with fond exasperation, as she followed Bozer through the estate.

* * *

(They ate Philly cheesesteaks together under the bridge)

(It was amazing. Better than any she’d had in Philadelphia back in her East Coast days.)

(It turned out Bozer’s ‘contact’ was one of the guys who ran the food truck, an old friend of his from his burger-flipping days during college.)

(She still let him take credit for it.)

(He was so happy and proud of himself that she couldn’t really do anything else.)

(Besides, it was a really good cheesesteak.)

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…He accidentally dyed the ceiling of a disused lecture theatre blue.’ Beth paused with a few giggles. ‘It was really, really persistent; this was when I was seven, and when I was an undergrad at Purdue, the stain was still there…’

Mac shook his head with a wry, teasing smile and a chuckle, as Beth finished relating the story of how one of her mom’s students (her mother was a chemistry professor at Purdue) had done an out-of-hours, not-faculty-approved experiment that had gone a little wrong. He spoke, his tone teasing.

‘Does that mean you broke into a lecture theatre you weren’t supposed to be in?’

She affected a very prim tone.

‘Of course not! It wasn’t locked and it was part of campus, I simply…took a detour through it one day, because I was curious about a campus legend.’

He gave a snort of laughter, shaking his head fondly.

_To be fair, Beth was a perfect goody-two-shoes in college compared to me, as far as I know._

_And by some standards, I was pretty tame in college, so…_

‘Trying to make a long-lasting blue hair dye for your roommate’s girlfriend because of a bet sounds like the kind of thing born at 3 am after far too many energy drinks.’

When she replied, he had the distinct feeling that Beth would be narrowing her eyes at him and jabbing the air in front of his chest (mostly teasingly) if she were there in person.

‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience, Mac…’

He chuckled, and nodded, losing himself in his memories for a moment before speaking.

‘Well, there was the time when my friends and I competed to see who could balance the most pineapples on their head…’

‘Who won?’

He gave a little smirk.

‘I did, I managed three.’

Her voice was equally impressed and curious when she responded.

‘ _How_?’

He smiled, soft and broad.

‘I found that the main problem was keeping them together; the shifting of all three pineapples makes their centre of gravity constantly move, which makes it hard to balance them on your head. So, I stuck them together using the leaves…’

* * *

**JAZZ CLUB**

**LA**

* * *

Jack smiled at his girlfriend across the table, as she smiled and bobbed her head along to the sinuous jazz that filled the room, eyes closed. After a few beats, she opened her eyes and reached out to take his hand, smile widening as she scooted closer to him along the semi-circular bench of their booth at the club.

Diane leaned her head against his shoulder, enjoying the music, which Jack agreed was very good (even if it wasn’t Metallica, he did appreciate good jazz, something that he had an old friend from high school to thank).

They sat there for a while, simply enjoying the music and each other’s company, before Jack downed the rest of his whiskey and got up, holding a hand out to Diane.

‘Wanna dance?’

The club had a small dancefloor, and Jack gestured towards it with his head.

Diane looked at him with piercing, knowing eyes, then her smile widened and she took his hand and stood elegantly.

* * *

‘You’ve been practicing, haven’t you?’

Diane’s question sounded half like a statement, like she already knew the answer.

(Jack had many talents, but dancing was not one of them, but he was far better at it than she remembered, even if it’d been more than ten years ago.)

Jack gave a somewhat sheepish grin as they danced.

‘YouTube’s a wonderful invention.’ The grin simultaneously softened and became a bit more like a smirk. ‘And anything for my best girl.’

* * *

**DALTON AUTO REPAIR**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…I’m guessing you can’t just tell your client that he bought a lemon and that it’d be better in the long run to scrap this and buy a better car?’

Mac, his voice a little muffled by the fact that he was underneath said lemon, spoke, sounding rather frustrated and exasperated.

(Jack had come to the same conclusion about the car, but had asked Mac to take a look to see if he could offer some suggestions on how to de-lemon-ify the car.)

The older man looked up from where he was buffing the hood of the 1976 Mustang fastback that he’d restored for a client (said client had sent it in for a service a couple of days ago and would be picking it up this afternoon).

‘Not an option, man.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Guy’s really attached to that particular make and model.’

Mac sighed and rolled out from under the car for a moment, grabbing a rag to towel off the worst of the grease from his hands.

‘Which would probably explain why he bought a lemon.’ He sighed again and his thinking face appeared, then his _I-have-an-idea_ face, and he rolled back under the car. Jack smiled. ‘I think we can fix this…’ There were clanking sounds for a while, before Mac, a streak of grease on his chin, rolled out from under the car again. ‘Yeah, we can fix this, but it’s going to cost him.’

Jack grinned, and reached out to help Mac up, tossing away his buffing cloth and patting him on the back.

‘Knew you’d come through, brother.’ Jack waved a hand as if to say _it doesn’t matter._ ‘And the guy can pay for it; he’s one of those investment banker types.’ Jack snorted. ‘In fact, he’ll be _happy_ to pay for it; that’s how much he loves this car, man.’ Then, he smirked. ‘And talking about shelling out the cash, brother…your phone bill must be going through the roof with how much time you spend talking to your lady doctor!’

Mac just shot Jack a _look,_ part-incredulous, part-long-suffering.

‘Jack, that was a _terrible_ segue.’ He turned away from Jack and grabbed a selection of the spare parts from Jack’s spare parts pile. The selection looked random to Jack, but he knew that Mac had something in mind, even if he couldn’t see it yet. ‘And I upgraded to an unlimited calls and texts plan; it’s better value-for-money than my old plan, so I’m not paying that much more…’

The older man shook his head with a fond, but also slightly long-suffering, smile as he started to recognize what Mac was building.

Kid was crazy.

But he was a good kind of crazy.

* * *

**RILEY’S FAVOURITE COMPUTER STORE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…You need to have the proper equipment to do the job. And your laptop’s just not going to cut it, Bozer.’ Riley walked purposefully through the store’s aisles, as Bozer followed her, rather confused. He only recognized a handful of things in the entire store, and that was only because Mac liked to do his thing with them. ‘You’ll need this…and these…’

She pulled things off the shelves and put them in the basket that Bozer was holding. They’d been playing _Resident Evil 7_ at her place, and during a break from the game, he’d decided to show her the first cut of his latest movie on his laptop (it was very rough – especially in the special effects department). Riley hadn’t been very impressed by his CGI skills (even Bozer admitted that the monster who ate General Wang looked like Mac covered in ping-pong balls and turned green), and had declared that she couldn’t stand him mangling it like that, and dragged him to this store so he could buy the parts he needed for a better rig.

(He was really hoping she’d help him build it – or maybe build it for him in exchange for some large quantity of his cooking – because he really didn’t think he could do it himself. Besides, he liked spending time with Riley.)

Suddenly, she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him behind a shelving unit.

Bozer turned to her, confused.

‘Uh…Riley, why are we hiding like we’re hiding from bad guys?’

Riley made a face, then ducked her head out from behind the shelf a tiny bit, pointing at something, then ducked back behind the shelf and crossed her arms. Bozer ducked his head out further to get a good look.

She’d pointed at a guy who looked very much like a bad boy, and not in the way Mac was a ‘bad boy’ (as in burning-down-the-high-school’s-football-stadium-in-a-small-nuclear-meltdown-by-accident-because-he-was-mad-sciencing, frequently wearing a leather jacket and preferring to wear his hair a bit longer than most men), but _actual_ bad boy.

He also looked like he hadn’t had a bath or a shower in years.

Bozer gawked at him for a few seconds, before Riley tugged him back behind the shelving unit.

‘That’s Jaden. I used to date him. Years ago.’ Her expression grew more disgusted. ‘It was a _really_ bad life choice.'

Bozer instantly disliked this Jaden even more.

He was probably a horrible boyfriend who couldn’t even put together a half-decent dinner for his girl.

He _had_ to be.

Bozer just nodded in agreement and reached out and patted Riley’s shoulder comfortingly.

‘He’s kinda lacking in the personal hygiene department, isn’t he?’

Riley’s face looked as if she’d just found four rotting rats in her pantry.

‘Yeah, _really_ lacking…’ She chanced another glance around the shelving unit, finding that Jaden was gone, and grabbed Bozer’s hand for a moment, tugging him out from their hiding place, then letting go. ‘Come on, we need to get you a decent motherboard…’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Mac carefully screwed the last blade of his latest invention into place, listening to the sounds of cooking emanating from his phone.

He was making an automatic, autonomous lawnmower (best described as a Roomba for lawns), while Beth cooked a casserole, a pot of chilli and a lasagne, all at once.

(Making large quantities of food and freezing them in portions was the best way, given her job, according to her, to minimize the amount of takeout she ate.)

They’d been chatting as each of them worked, but they’d fallen quiet for a moment, which was honestly unusual (they were both pretty talkative), but not uncomfortable in the slightest, he felt.

He pushed the top cover of his Roomba-lawnmower into place, and then reached out to grab a handful of screws to secure it. However, he’d neglected to retract the blades first (he’d wanted to see if they protruded sufficiently past the cover, but not retracting them was a very bad idea in hindsight) and misjudged the distance slightly, the top of his left hand brushing against one of the very, very sharp-edged blades.

He swore rather loudly as pain raced across his hand, blood instantly welling. It _really_ stung.

‘Mac…did you cut yourself on your Roomba-lawnmower?’

The sound of Beth chopping vegetables ceased immediately, and he suspected she was probably shooting her phone (him, sort-of) a narrow-eyed look. Despite the pain, Mac gave a little smile as he grabbed some paper towels to wrap around his hand as a temporary measure.

‘Not badly?’ She made a huffing, exasperated sound that he thought was also quite fond, and he continued, putting his phone in one of his jacket pockets as he walked to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. ‘It’s not deep enough to need stitches, I promise, and I’m getting the first aid kit right now to clean and bandage it. I’ll tell you if it doesn’t stop bleeding in a reasonable amount of time, or shows any redness, swelling, heat or other signs of infection, I promise.’

He thought it best to head her off at the pass.

Mac was quite sure that if she thought he wasn’t looking after the injury properly, she’d demand his address and show up at his house.

(Which really wasn’t an unpleasant possibility, not at all…except for the fact that his house was a mess, and there was a large grease stain on his shirt, and that he had copious quantities of grease under his nails and he probably smelled like motor oil and rust…Mac cut off that train of thought there, before he decided to do something really stupid like sort-of invite her over to make sure he was taking care of the cut properly.)

(It was just a cut. There was absolutely no need to drag his ER doctor friend – whom he’d technically never met - over to look after it, particularly as he was, apparently, a terrible patient.)

(She did not deserve to have to deal with a terrible patient on her day off, friend or not.)

(The little voice in his head that promised to try very hard to be a good patient for Beth was summarily ignored.)

* * *

**COWBOYS GAME**

**LA MEMORIAL COLISEUM**

**LA**

* * *

‘…I didn’t organize this, I swear!’

Jack, a little panicked, looked between his girlfriend and the jumbotron, which showed the two of them.

He really hadn’t intended to wind up on Kiss-Cam. He’d really come for the game, and to convert Diane into a true Cowboys fan.

(She quite enjoyed watching football, had before they’d met, but had never really had a team she supported strongly, tending to support the local team wherever she lived – though she’d taken up cheering for the Cowboys when they were together, both times.)

(Jack was determined to show her that the Cowboys were clearly the best team in the NFL and worthy of true loyalty and fan-hood.)

Diane just shook her head at him (fond and exasperated) and leaned over and kissed him.

The crowd cheered, and when they broke apart, Jack whooped and held up his giant Cowboys foam hand.

‘Go Cowboys!’

Diane shook her head at him again, with more fond exasperation, but she also stole his Cowboys baseball cap.

(He’d win her over, Jack was sure.)

(She’d let him.)

* * *

**SHOPPING MALL**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

‘What do you think about this for Jack?’

Bozer smirked, pulling out a cream-coloured shirt covered in colourful airplanes, displaying it to Riley, who also smirked, a little wickedly.

(She and Bozer had a little plan in motion to force Jack – who was very unstylish – into a makeover. It involved making him lose a bet. After seeing a few photos of Mac, Riley had also pushed for making him over too – he was even less stylish than Jack, taking age into account - but Bozer had said that A, his roommate was a completely lost cause, and B, he hadn’t managed to make Mac lose a bet since his BFF was fourteen and he’d made him ask his crush to Prom.)

She pulled out a pair of fashionably-ripped jeans, a little tighter and lighter in colour than anything Jack would pick out for himself.

‘That’d go really well with these.’

Their mischievous smirks both widened.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Mac lounged on the couch, his feet resting on the coffee table, reading a very interesting paper on a potential alternative to titanium for medical implants from Beth’s favourite open-source medical journal on his laptop.

(She’d sent him the recommendation a couple of days ago, and he’d finally gotten time to sit down and read it. It’d been a busy few days at work as they finished building a probe prototype before an immobile deadline; nowhere near Iris-from- _The-Martian_ levels, but busy nonetheless.)

He raised his eyebrows as he reached a point halfway through the Results and Discussion section. No wonder she’d wanted him to read this paper…

* * *

‘Hey, Mac, you’ve got to see this!’ Bozer held up his phone to his roommate with a smirk, as the two of them sat at the kitchen counter, Bozer working on edits of that movie in which Mac played both General Wang and a green monster on the new rig that Riley had built him (with him as her enthusiastic but not particularly useful assistant), Mac reading the latest issue of _New Scientist._ Mac leaned over to take a look, as Bozer continued, smirk widening and waggling his eyebrows. ‘Jack and Diane got caught on Kiss-Cam!’

_They really did…and of course Jack had to yell ‘Go Cowboys!’ at the end._

_Of course he did._

_Honestly, before he and Diane got together again, I’d have said that nothing could make Jack happier than the Cowboys winning the Super Bowl._

_Now…well, I wouldn’t say nothing could, but there still can’t be many things that would._

Bozer laughed and shook his head, watching the video for the third time, slapping a hand on his thigh.

‘I gotta show this to Riley…’

There was a slightly-goofy grin on his face that Mac had noticed was very strongly associated with mentions of his co-worker and friend.

‘Uh, Boze, are you sure that’s a good idea?’

_I’m speaking relatively hypothetically, and I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the best at this sort of thing, but I really don’t think anyone wants to see the closest thing they’ve ever had to a father kissing their mom…on Kiss-Cam, no less._

Bozer’s eyes widened almost comically as he put down his phone.

‘Too late…’

* * *

‘Hey, Mac, Riley’s demanding brain bleach. Can you get on to that for me? I’ll make my special eight-layered chocolate cake if you can do it…’

Mac shook his head with a smile that was almost a smirk as Bozer looked up rather hopefully from his phone, that goofy, Riley-associated grin on his face again.

_I love Bozer’s eight-layered chocolate cake._

_Everyone who’s had the privilege of eating it does._

_It’s a great incentive…but brain bleach, unfortunately, is beyond me._

_Or I’d have made it by now._

_Trust me, there’s definitely some things I’ve seen that I’d love to forget, and there’s no way that’s happening naturally…_

He held his hands up apologetically.

‘Sorry, Boze. No can do.’

Bozer threw his hands out and up.

‘Come on, man!’ He pointed at his roommate. ‘Didn’t you have that professor in college who always said _impossible is not a scientific term_?’

_Professor V did say that._

_He also had a whole rant about how it was so often misinterpreted and misused. He was trying to teach us that we needed to keep an open mind and consider all possibilities and to keep trying, not that literally nothing is impossible._

_Many things are impossible, like breaking the First Law of Thermodynamics._

_But far fewer things are impossible than most people think, which is probably also what Professor V was getting at._

Mac nodded wryly, conceding the point, before shaking his head again, a wry smile on his face. He picked up his own phone and held it up.

‘I’ll get a second opinion on that, but don’t hold your breath, Boze.’

He pulled up a long string of messages (a very, very long string of messages) and added another.

**Hey Beth – apparently I need to make brain bleach; any tips on how to start? I’m really, really stumped! :P**

(While they’d mostly moved on to calls, he and Beth still texted back and forth too, mostly when there were a couple of days when they couldn’t talk properly because of work.)

(Besides, he’d become pretty fond of the medium.)

(Of course, Mac didn’t notice the equally-goofy, fond smile, so similar to Bozer’s Riley-associated grin, that appeared on his face as he typed that message.)

(But Bozer did.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is really just all fluff. But falling in love takes time, in my opinion, so this was born. Rest assured that Mac skimmed over this while telling his kids the story; they’re not dying of boredom!


	12. Chapter 11

**ANIMAL SHELTER**

**LA**

* * *

Jack was very much a dog person. Once upon a time, he’d had a fantasy of retiring to a beautiful ranch near Dallas with a wife and a couple of kids and a dog named Peaches.

Clearly, that hadn’t happened and wouldn’t happen.

(At least, there’d be no ranch in Texas.)

(He was starting to think that there might be a wife – or at least a de-facto partner – and a couple of surrogate sort-of children.)

(There was probably not going to be a dog named Peaches, though.)

However, Diane was very much a cat person, and she had long wanted to adopt a cat.

Hence, Jack was at an animal shelter with his girlfriend to help her choose one.

His main job, as assigned by Diane, was to stop her from adopting _multiple_ cats. Apparently, she didn’t have much faith in her self-control in the face of possibly sad-looking, adorable balls of fluff in cages, waiting for a home.

Now that he was standing in the shelter’s cat area, looking at said cats, Jack really didn’t blame her.

(He was still very much a dog person, but the cats were pretty adorable and charming in their own way.)

After a few minutes of browsing, Diane made a beeline for one of the lower cages, containing a short-haired, sleek ginger cat with green eyes. The description on the tag pinned to the cage stated that the cat was female and a year old. She crouched down by the cage, and immediately, the cat purred and pranced around as best as she could, before, Jack swore, quite deliberately making eye contact with Diane and pacing up to the front of the cage, pressing herself against the cage and purring again. Diane reached out and stroked her with a finger through the bars of the cage, and the kitty purred again, leaning closer to her touch, before looking up at her with those big green eyes again.

Jack could practically _see_ Diane’s heart melting.

(This cat was definitely the one. And, Jack thought, she was definitely a clever little performer.)

* * *

Forty minutes later, Jack and Diane left the animal shelter, hand in hand, Diane carrying a temporary cardboard cat carrier containing her new cat, whom she’d christened Nala.

He opened the door of his car, and Diane carefully put Nala inside, before getting in herself. Jack put the key in the ignition and smiled at Diane, then at Nala inside the cat carrier.

‘To the pet store, then, ladies?’

* * *

Diane smiled, knowingly and affectionately, as Jack drove to the nearest pet store with a 4.5 or higher rating on Google (‘Only the best for my best girl’s best kitty-cat!’).

Jack wasn’t a cat person.

(Or so he claimed, anyway.)

But she was positive that Nala, clever, adorable little thing she was, already had him wrapped around her front paw.

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…Well, I mean, the Mythbusters _did_ manage to make a lead balloon and polish poop, which are supposedly impossible…’

Mac smiled as Beth spoke, stretching out in bed as he held his phone to his ear with one hand. A conversation about brain bleach had snowballed into disproving idioms about supposedly impossible things, somehow.

Then, his smile grew more wry.

‘But they _couldn’t_ herd cats.’ He paused, smile growing more wry. ‘That’s not surprising. Jack and his girlfriend just got a cat; Nala’s really, really good at getting her way.’ He paused again. He was more of a dog person, but Nala definitely had her charms. ‘And she looks adorable doing it.’

That made her laugh.

‘I think I like dogs more, but cats are also really cute.’ There was a pause, and when she spoke again, it sounded as if she had her _I-have-an-idea_ face on. Mac very suddenly really wanted to know what her _I-have-an-idea_ face looked like. ‘One thing the Mythbusters _haven’_ t tried is making a flattering potato sack dress…you know, I bet _you_ could do that, with a potato sack, some paperclips, duct tape, and…I don’t know, a turkey baster or something!’

It was his turn to laugh.

‘Is that a challenge, Beth?’

Her tone was teasing, yet also eager, when she responded.

‘Well, I’m going to have to say it is now!’

He chuckled again, getting up off his bed to go over to his desk, turning on his laptop. He had to find out where to obtain a potato sack from.

‘Bozer hates it when I use the turkey baster…’ He held his phone in place between his ear and his shoulder as he typed. ‘…I tried to make him an automated, increased through-put one once, as a replacement after I used ours for something…’ He smiled wryly and softly, lost in a memory. ‘…that didn’t go down well.’

* * *

‘…Uh, bro… _what is that_?’

Bozer walked in to their home one Wednesday evening, carrying two takeaway boxes, one containing larb, the other pad thai. (Wednesday was his and Mac’s takeout night, since neither one of them usually felt much like cooking on Hump Day.)

His roommate was standing in the living room, which had somehow over the course of the day (presumably since Mac had gotten home from work about three hours ago) acquired an old dress form and a stylish dress made out of what looked to be a potato sack, some paperclips and quite a lot of duct tape.

(Mac _really_ liked duct tape.)

Mac straightened up from where he was adjusting something on the waist of the dress, pocketing his Swiss Army knife, then rubbed the back of his neck and gave a little grin, both a little sheepishly.

‘It’s an inside joke with Beth.’

Bozer just nodded slowly, making a mental note to take a picture and text it to Jack with a brief explanation later.

‘Okay, bro…but where in the world did you buy that potato sack? Where does one _buy_ potato sacks?’

Mac pointed at Bozer and nodded.

‘That, Boze, is a _really_ good question.’

Bozer nodded slowly again, before noticing what was in Mac’s other hand.

‘Bro, is that our turkey baster?’ Caught red-handed, Mac paused from where he was attaching the turkey baster to the dress and nodded, definitely sheepishly. ‘Mac, come on, you know I can’t stand it when you use the turkey baster!’ Bozer pointed at him very firmly. ‘And don’t tell me you’ve made another better one for me! That thing looked like a steampunk medical torture device! There are some classics that you shouldn’t mess with, man!’ Mac, still looking a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, just pointed at the kitchen counter, where two brand-new turkey basters, still in their packaging, rested. Bozer looked over, and his face broke into a fond grin, and he walked over and put a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. ‘You’re totally an adorkable-mad-scientist-puppy, Mac.’ He pointed at him again. ‘Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.’

_Somehow, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem…who would even mention the term ‘adorkable-mad-scientist-puppy’ in relation to me – or anyone else, for that matter – except Bozer?_

* * *

Later that night, when he was sure she’d have gotten home from work, Mac snapped a photo of his potato sack dress (which he was honestly really quite proud of) and texted it to Beth.

Happily, he only had to wait about forty seconds before she called him, still in fits of giggles.

‘Mac…I think you’ve missed your calling! You should have been a fashion designer! You know, I’m sure you could throw something together in time for New York Fashion Week…’

He laughed, shaking his head.

‘I think I’ll stick with my day job, Beth.’ He paused for a moment, voice a little softer and more serious when he spoke again. ‘I’m glad you liked it.’

After another moment, as if she was hesitating a little, she spoke, her voice also soft and almost confessional.

‘Mac?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I’m really glad you mistyped Valerie’s number.’

He smiled, soft and fond and nearly unconsciously.

‘So am I.’

‘Mutual weirdness is really great.’

Completely and utterly unbidden, Mac’s mind suddenly focused on a very particular quote attributed to Dr Suess.

_‘We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.’_

He shook his head a little to clear it, shoving that thought away into a box, along with those similar thoughts he’d had like the one about wanting to know what Beth’s _I-have-an-idea_ face looked like.

That was absolutely and utterly inexplicable and just plain crazy.

They’d never met, after all.

* * *

**FBI OFFICES**

**LA**

* * *

‘…the UST, Riley. The _UST_.’ Bozer drooped forward and lay on the table, then reached up towards her imploringly. ‘It’s _everywhere.’_ He reached out and put a hand on her wrist. ‘Save yourself, Riley, save yourself!’

That was all said very, very dramatically.

Riley gave a snort of laughter and raised an eyebrow at him.

Sure, she’d heard that May Torres, undercover specialist, and Carter Justin, lifelong white-hat, both on secondment from the FBI’s San Francisco office due to a smuggling ring active along all of the West Coast, had a serious case of dancing around each other, but they couldn’t possibly be _that_ bad, could they?

(She hadn’t met them yet, but Bozer was doing quite a bit of work with the two at the moment.)

Bozer mimed drowning (presumably in the UST) in a very silly and dramatic manner, making her laugh again.

That made him grin, that goofy little grin that Mac had noticed was very Riley-associated.

Sure, he was drowning in UST, but he’d made Riley laugh three times today (once in the morning, now twice at lunch), so he was still coming out on top, in his mind.

* * *

‘Can we just lock them in a storage closet together?’

Three days later, Riley huffed out a breath and resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. Bozer reached across the table and patted her hand sympathetically.

(All the stories about May and Carter? After working with them for one-and-a-half days, Riley had realized that _none_ of them were exaggerations.)

Then, Bozer steepled his hands together like an evil genius in a cheesy film and gave a matching smirk.

‘I knew my Chippendale Plan would come in handy one day…’

Riley gave a snort and raised an eyebrow at him.

‘You have a plan for locking two people in a storage closet? And you named it after a really fancy and really expensive kind of furniture?’

Bozer pointed at her, a rather smug look on his face.

‘Hey, you just admitted like thirty seconds ago that it’d be useful…’ He crossed his arms. ‘And what else was I supposed to call it?’

Riley laughed and shook her head, plenty of fondness in the action.

Bozer was pretty weird.

But she really liked his weird.

* * *

The day after Carter and May headed home to San Francisco, handily a Friday, Bozer dropped Riley off outside her apartment building.

(They’d taken up car-pooling a few weeks ago. It was just more efficient, cheaper and it gave them a little more time to hang out and company in LA’s awful traffic.)

Instead of getting out of the car with a goodbye wave, as usual, Riley hesitated for a moment, then leaned over the centre console, grabbed Bozer by the collar and kissed him.

It was a pretty chaste kiss, not much more than a peck, but when she pulled away and let go of his collar, he looked as if all his birthdays and Christmases had come at once.

That made Riley grin too.

‘We should stop dancing around each other.’ Her expression became more wry. ‘We don’t want to end up like May and Carter.’ She gave a little half-shrug. ‘So…wanna go grab burgers?’

Bozer seemed to shake himself out of his dreamy stupor, and he grinned at her, something very soft and affectionate in there that made Riley feel all warm inside.

‘It’s a date.’

(That was a Jack-worthy pun.)

(That is, it was _really bad_.)

(She kind of laughed anyway.)

* * *

In the car park one evening after work (he’d had to work late, and had known that that’d be the case the night before, so he and Riley had skipped carpooling that morning), a shadowy figure came up to Bozer as he walked up to his car.

A shadowy figure whom he quickly recognized (thank God) as Sam, Riley’s best friend, master profiler and interrogator and real bad-ass in just about every way.

(She was also really good – like scarily good – at poker, and great at darts, almost as good as Mac. Bozer had found both out the hard way.)

(He really should have known better than to try and bluff the profiler.)

The slim blonde woman pinned him with a steely-eyed stare and got straight to the point.

‘If you hurt her…’

She trailed off, the threat implicit. Bozer screwed his courage to the sticking place and looked Sam right back in the eye.

(She could break him if he did, Bozer knew, all _without_ laying a hand on him.)

(But he had nothing to fear, really. He had absolutely no intentions of hurting Riley, and was very, very determined to never, ever screw up like he had more than two years ago.)

‘I’ll do everything I can to not, I promise.’

Sam studied him for a moment, before nodding, a little smile appearing on her face.

‘Good. You don’t want to find an octopus in your desk drawer, do you?’

And with that, she strode away, leaving Bozer spluttering behind her.

‘What…how…why…you can’t be _that_ good!’

He had a crippling, horrific phobia of octopi (Mac cringed whenever he said that and insisted that the correct plural form should be _octopuses_ , which just sounded wrong to Bozer, no matter what Mac said about Latin and Greek origins for words and correct plural endings), but as far as Bozer knew, only his family, Mac and Riley knew about.

(And Riley had pinkie-promised not to tell anyone, so she wouldn’t have told Sam, he knew.)

Sam turned around, a little smirk on her face.

‘I _am_ that good.’ The smirk widened a little. ‘And a profiler never shares her secrets.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…Boze, she can’t be telepathic. She’s clearly very, very good at her job, but she can’t be _telepathic._ There’s no such thing as telepathy!’

Mac took a sip of his beer as he finished speaking, while Jack inspected the steaks that Bozer was grilling, sipping his own beer, before pointing at Bozer, then at Mac, with his beer bottle.

‘I’m with Boze on this one, brother. How can you explain her knowing about Bozer’s weird phobia, which _I didn’t know about until five minutes ago_ …’ Both Mac and Bozer rolled their eyes, ignoring Jack’s grousing. ‘…apart from her being a mind-reader?’ Jack gestured at Mac with his beer bottle again, a very sage expression on his face. ‘I know her, man, and I swear, she knows things she couldn’t know otherwise…If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains-‘

Mac threw his hands up in exasperation.

‘Jack, the impossible bit is this Cage being telepathic!’ Mac took another sip of his beer, then continued. ‘Look, I don’t know how she’s that good, but she has to be. Telepathy isn’t real!’

Jack just shook his head, eyeing off the lovely, juicy, so-rare-it-was-blue steak that Bozer had just taken off the grill for him. Bozer, meanwhile, saw where his eyes were going, and pre-emptively slapped Jack on the wrist with the side of the tongs he was holding, causing Jack to yelp.

(It was important for the steak to rest, instead of Jack taking it and digging in like a heathen as soon as it came off the grill.)

‘Mac, brother, trust me, it’s real. A few years ago, before I met you, I was down in New Orleans, and I met this woman with this…vibe, and she took me out on the bayou…’ Jack shook his head, eyes turned heavenward. ‘Believe me, if you saw what I saw that night…you’d believe, brother, you’d believe.’

* * *

**CHEZ DALTON**

**(JACK’S RESIDENCE)**

**SOUTH PASADENA**

* * *

‘…I kid you not, kid had made a dress out of a potato sack. With a _turkey baster_ on it. All to try and impress this girl he’s never met. Technically.’ Diane smiled, as she pulled the fish out of the oven and Jack chopped tomatoes as he talked. Mac’s crazy and oddly adorable relationship with the woman he’d called Doc for months was, in her mind, both sweet and amusing. ‘Oh, and speaking of relationships…if Boze hurts Riles, I’ll punch him, I swear, friends or not. Multiple times.’ Diane shook her head (that was a _terrible_ segue), but leaned over the kitchen counter to peck Jack on the cheek anyway, profoundly, deeply glad that Jack loved her baby girl as much as she did, was protective of her just as Diane was. That made Jack give a little smile, a tiny bit smug, before his expression turned more serious. ‘But we don’t have to worry ‘bout that, I think. Boze is little weird and can be a bit creepy, and there was that whole really big mistake thing…but he’s got a great heart and he’ll treat her more than right.’

Diane simply nodded, a little smile on her face.

She’d never been so good at spotting assholes when it came to her own boyfriends (in fact, she was pretty terrible at it), but for some reason, she’d always been good at spotting the assholes among her own daughter’s boyfriends.

Bozer did not ping the asshole radar.

In fact, he was just the opposite, in her eyes.

* * *

**NEW SOUL FOOD RESTAURANT**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…they’re so excited for their end-of-semester production; it’s adorable!’

Penny smiled and clapped her hands together as she described how her ‘kids’ (Penny taught children’s drama classes and acted on the side) were doing.

Mac and Bozer were having lunch with their mutual-ex-girlfriend-still-friend so they could all catch up on what was going on in each other’s lives. They tried for lunch monthly.

At that moment, the server brought them their slices of pie, and there was a natural lull in their conversation as they all sampled their dessert.

Three pairs of eyes lit up as they took their first bites.

(The pie was _incredible_.)

Mac muttered to himself as he stuck his spoon into his pie for another bite.

‘I’ve _got_ to tell Beth to come here…’

Bozer and Penny exchanged a very long-suffering, fondly-exasperated and also very significant look.

Mac had pined over Darlene Martin badly when he was fourteen, and gone all tongue-tied around her.

At the time, they’d thought he’d outgrow it.

Then they’d seen him go all starry-eyed over Frankie when he was at MIT, then seen Nikki turn his brain to mush with a little smile or a smirk or a light touch or an extra bit of swing in her hips.

At that point, they’d concluded that he wouldn’t outgrow it.

And now, they were seeing proof of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff, more oblivious!Mac, exasperated!Mac, a shovel talk and a sort-of shovel talk, more progress and more _Every End is as Beginning_ references – I’m happy with that! Nala’s name is a reference to the fact that according to Wikipedia, Tristin Mays played Nala on Broadway in The Lion King.


	13. Chapter 12

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…All that noise is everyone setting up for my birthday party; I’ve been confined to my room for the time being...’

Beth’s voice was chiding when she replied, which made Mac give a fond little smile.

‘You should have told me it’s your birthday earlier, Mac! I’d have bought you a present!’ Mac told the little voice in his head that suggested that _she_ would have made an excellent birthday present very firmly to shut up. She paused, and the chiding tone was gone when she spoke again. ‘Happy birthday, Mac.’

His smile widened.

‘Thanks, Beth.’ He started a little, then chuckled, as there was a loud bang, followed by Jack and Bozer bickering loudly with each other. ‘I don’t really make a big deal about my birthday; I only started celebrating it after I got back from Afghanistan...’

He was about to tell her all about the _why_ (and not that whole birthdays-are-arbitrary-because-we-are-aging-every-minute-of-every-day spiel that was _technically_ true but not really the truth, but the tale of how his dad had left on his ‘business trip’ just days before his birthday, how he’d been so excited for his return during the whole party, and how his dad had never come back, and then the tale of how his near-death experience, with plenty of nudging by Jack – and Bozer, who’d spent years of his life trying to convince Mac to celebrate his birthday, but mostly Jack, honestly – had finally convinced him that negative associations and bad memories and arbitrary or not, birthdays were special and worth commemorating, and besides, he could build some new positive associations, new good birthday memories), when there was a knock on the door, and Penny’s voice rang out in sing-song.

‘Mac! You can come out now!’

There was definitely a smile and amusement in Beth’s voice when she spoke.

‘Got to go, Mac?’

He got up off his bed.

‘Yeah, got to go. I can’t be late to my own party! Talk to you later, Beth.’

‘Enjoy your birthday, Mac.’

She hung up, and he pocketed his phone and opened his bedroom door…to find a heavily-decorated house, with Jack, Bozer, Penny, Riley and Diane standing there in party hats and grinning, underneath a large banner that declared _Happy 27 th Birthday, Mac! Enjoy your 28th trip around the Sun! _that was hanging from the ceiling.

He grinned too.

_This is going to be a great birthday._

_I just know it._

* * *

Later that night, after everyone else had gone home, Mac found himself in the kitchen with Jack, Bozer and Penny, sipping at mugs of Bozer’s super-special, secret-recipe hot chocolate (Mac had actually determined the secret ingredient years ago, but pretended that he still didn’t know for Bozer’s sake) as a nightcap.

Jack, Bozer and Penny exchanged a glance, and then Penny spoke.

‘Mac, we all love you so, so much, so that’s why we’re doing this.’

Jack reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, and Bozer nodded seriously. Mac adopted an incredulous expression.

‘Are you staging an intervention? I don’t need-‘

‘Angus-‘

Penny almost never called him Angus. Mac rolled his eyes.

‘If you’re calling me _that_ , it has to be bad.’

Jack squeezed his shoulder, and spoke, his voice a little more serious and softer than Mac had expected.

‘Brother, you and Beth have known each other for nine months.’

_That is true._

Bozer continued, topping up Mac’s mug of hot chocolate.

‘And there’s _obviously_ something going on, bro.’

Mac looked away from the three of them for a moment, mouth open as if to speak, make some kind of denial, but he found he couldn’t deny that. Not anymore. Not to them.

_I think there’s something there. I really do. It’s crazy, but I do._

_I suppose I could be projecting, because of my own feelings…but honestly, I don’t think I am._

_Everyone else certainly doesn’t think so._

Penny continued, clasping her hands together in front of her.

‘But neither of you even know what the other looks like!’

_And that is also the truth._

They exchanged photos from time to time.

A photo of Mac’s hand squeegeeing pancake batter off the ceiling after his attempt to recreate his pancake-making toaster from college had gone somewhat awry.

Another of Beth’s collection of science joke T-shirts, spread out on her bed, her hand gesturing to it in the shot.

A picture of a pair of Mac’s shoes, on his feet, after his Roomba-lawnmower had gotten to them. (After double-checking that he had not been wearing the shoes at the time, so was unharmed, she’d suggested that the lawnmower was evidently better suited to robot-fighting than lawn-mowing, then demanded a ringside seat when it made its debut. Mac had promised her a VIP ticket should that occur, since she was the one who’d suggested the career change.)

But by some kind of unspoken agreement, they never sent each other photos with their faces in them.

Jack removed his hand from Mac’s shoulder, but looked him in the eye as he pointed to the younger man.

‘This, Mac, is a kick up the ass to get going.’ Bozer and Penny nodded in support and agreement, then, after a pause, Jack continued, leaning a little closer to Mac, voice softening. ‘You know what I think, son?’ The question was obviously rhetorical, so Mac didn’t say anything in response, and Jack continued. ‘I reckon you’re half in love with a woman you’ve never seen.’

Mac stared at Jack for a moment, then looked away, down at the floor, around the room, looking simultaneously incredulous, as if he thought Jack had gone mad, and confused and lost in thought and, just a little bit, like he _agreed_ with Jack.

‘Jack, that’s crazy, I can’t possibly be-‘

The older man reached out and put a hand on Mac’s shoulder again, looking him in the eye for a moment, then glancing at Bozer and Penny, then looking back at Mac.

As if he was telling them all to listen to the wisdom of age he’d accumulated, Mac thought.

‘The whole purely physical attraction bit is important, yeah. But all that appearance stuff? It changes, it fades, it ain’t permanent.’ A tiny bit of wryness crossed his serious expression. ‘You get old and scarred and saggy in weird places you never thought you would, I tell you…’

Mac was too lost in thought, but Bozer and Penny both made faces.

‘Starting to cross into TMI territory, Jack…’

Jack shook his head and rolled his eyes at Bozer’s words, and simply continued.

‘The real important stuff is the stuff on the inside, kids.’ He reached out and put his other hand on Mac’s shoulder too, leaning a little closer to him. ‘So, son, are you attracted to that?’

Mac stared at Jack for a moment, before glancing down, pulling a paperclip out of his pocket as Jack let go of his shoulders, starting to unwind it.

He didn’t answer, but they all knew the answer to that question.

Jack’s asking had been rhetorical, really, to prove a point.

Besides, Mac had just made a paperclip heart without noticing.

Soft, happy little smiles grew on Jack, Bozer and Penny’s faces, and Jack spoke again, his voice less serious, with more levity.

‘You know, brother, I reckon this is a modern-day ham radio love story.’ Jack got more excited about his theory, as Mac, Bozer and Penny all exchanged a glance. Sometimes, Jack’s stories got weird, like the one about how he and his cousin George (who was apparently crazy) had once stolen a dead body from a morgue to use as a Halloween decoration. ‘You know, call signs to names to…’ Bozer was pretty sure Jack meant to continue on to love, then marriage, then a baby in a baby carriage, but refrained mostly for Mac’s sake. ‘…anyway, my dad had a ham radio buddy who knew a ham who met his wife through ham radio.’ That got him a very sceptical look from both Bozer and Penny, though Mac seemed to be considering it and giving it some thought. Jack held up his hands. ‘Hey, true story, cross my heart and hope to die.’

Bozer and Penny still looked sceptical, but Mac tilted his head to the side, thinking out loud.

‘Given the number of hams, the fact that all hams obviously share at least one common interest, which is strongly correlated with several other interests, so most hams would likely share multiple common interests, and the closeness of relationships that have developed over ham radio…’ He shrugged, coming to a conclusion. ‘It’s got to have happened a few times.’

Jack nodded smugly, and clapped Mac on the shoulder.

‘See! You and your lady doctor, modern-day ham radio romance.’

Mac’s ears reddened and he made a spluttering noise, but he also didn’t try and argue.

Bozer and Penny exchanged a significant look, and Jack looked even smugger.

_Well, it’s not as if I’m opposed to that idea…_

_Honestly, I’m so far from being opposed to that idea…well, you know._

_It’s a nice idea._

_A really nice idea._

* * *

‘Hey, Mac, bro, you called Beth yet?’

At about 11 am the day after Mac’s birthday party and the ‘intervention’, a Saturday, Bozer stuck his head into the garage. Mac looked up at his roommate from the motorcycle he was working on as best as he could, since he was lying on the floor.

‘No, Boze.’ Bozer pointed at him and opened his mouth to continue, but Mac spoke before he could. ‘She’s at work; I’ll call her tonight when her shift finishes.’ He paused. ‘I promise.’

That made Bozer smile widely (he knew Mac never broke his promises), and then Mac’s roommate pointed at him.

‘You gonna be okay if you’re home alone all afternoon? I’m going out with Riley…’

Mac shrugged.

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine, Boze.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

Bozer seemed to think that was a silly question.

‘So you won’t send a dozen red roses or a pie-gram to her hospital?’

Mac made a face.

‘Why would I do that, Boze?’ His expression changed to a teasing smirk. ‘You’re the one who sent a homemade candy-gram to a woman, not me!’

Bozer straightened himself up to his full height and affected an offended expression.

‘Don’t diss the candy-gram, bro! It worked!’

_It actually did._

_No offence to Bozer, but that was on the surprising side…he’s really not much of a singer, not that I can really talk._

Then, his roommate’s expression softened, and he pointed at Mac again.

‘If you need some help with your romance game, I’m here for you, bro.’

Mac smiled and shook his head fondly.

‘Thanks, Boze, I appreciate the sentiment, but I think my romance game’s fine.’

Bozer looked sceptical in an oddly fond way, but nodded and headed back into the house, presumably to get ready for his date with Riley, while Mac turned back to the motorcycle he was restoring.

(It’d been little more than a pile of parts when he’d started, but he was making progress. It now at least looked like a motorbike, and the engine worked now too.)

_Bozer’s my best friend. He’s been my best friend for more than half our lives. I appreciate the sentiment behind him trying to help me with my ‘romance game’, I really, really do, but…well, let’s just say that his attempts at helping have been…interesting._

_When I was fourteen, he made me lose a bet so that I’d have to ask Darlene Martin to Prom._

_That was a disaster, though to be fair to Bozer, that was probably more my fault than his._

_I’m not suave. I never will be, but fourteen-year-old me was even worse than twenty-seven-year-old me._

_When I got home from my third and last date with Cindy, he’d decorated the house with red rose petals and candles and was making duck l’orange to help me ‘set the mood’._

_The duck l’orange was delicious, but I don’t think I need to spell it out for you._

_But hey, it looks like Bozer’s ‘romance game’ works for him, and my own hasn’t been catastrophically poor…so maybe we’ll stay in our own lanes. Do what works for each of us._

_Do what’s comfortable for each of us._

_It is important to be yourself, after all._

* * *

‘…I had a great birthday...you really don’t have to buy me a present, Beth…’

That night, in his bedroom, Mac paced around, feeling as nervous as he had when he’d had to ask Darlene Martin to Prom.

_Then, it hit me._

_As I said, I’m not suave._

_But I can still try, right?_

He was pretty sure that his smirk came out more nervous, awkward, goofy grin, but at least there was no-one around to actually see it.

‘Actually, Beth, there is one thing…’ He took a deep breath, willing his voice to sound normal. ‘Do you want to meet properly? In real life…err…in person?’

_The_ _key word was try._

The silence that followed was objectively extremely short. To Mac, subjectively, it felt like an eternity.

He could hear a bright smile and plenty of enthusiasm in her voice when she replied.

‘I’d really like that, it would be really nice to put a face to your name…’ She paused for a moment. ‘I’ve got tomorrow off, are you free?’

He was.

Even if he wasn’t, Mac would clear his schedule no matter what it took.

(That is, he’d put up with Jack and Bozer’s incessant ragging. And, honestly, at this point, probably also Riley’s and Penny’s, and some kind of quieter teasing from Diane.)

He grinned, probably stupidly, but he found he didn’t care.

‘Yeah. Name the time and place.’

‘Mama Colton’s diner in Highland Park, 10 am? It’s my favourite; Mama makes great pie!’

Mac chuckled fondly (Beth’s love for pie was ridiculous, but also ridiculously adorable).

‘See you there.’

‘I’ll meet you outside, and I’ll wear a blue tunic and braid my hair.’ She paused and there was something determinedly fierce in her voice when she spoke again. ‘And I’m buying you pie and coffee; I have to get you _something_ for your birthday!’

Mac told himself that that absolutely did not violate one of his grandfather’s rules, which was that a gentleman always paid for a first date.

It was _not_ a first date.

(He couldn’t let his hopes about what they could be get in the way of what they were, not like what had happened with Bozer and Riley.)

(Even if, a voice in his head that’d been getting stronger and stronger and sounded a bit like Jack, a bit like his grandfather and also, somehow, a bit like Bozer pointed out, they were kind-of, sort-of flirtatious with one another and it really seemed like there was actually something there…)

‘I’ll wear my brown leather jacket. And that sounds like an excellent birthday present.’ The next sound that emanated from his phone was a loud yawn, which made him laugh. ‘I should let you sleep, Beth.’

Her voice was both wry and adorably sleepy when she responded.

‘Unless you want me to fall asleep in my pie tomorrow…that’s probably a good idea!’ Her voice softened. ‘Good night, Mac.’

He smiled, soft and sweet and slow.

‘Good night, Beth.’

* * *

**MAMA COLTON’S DINER**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

When Mac arrived at the diner, wearing his favourite brown leather jacket as promised, there was a petite young woman waiting outside, in a blue tunic, light brown hair in a loose braid.

She smiled and waved when she saw him, a little awkwardly, but clearly also happy to see him.

He waved and smiled right back, walking closer, until they stood only a couple of feet apart.

‘Hello, Mac.’

Beth’s smile widened as she spoke, sweet, shy, a little awkward and very, very happy as she looked up at him. His own smile widened in response. He was pretty sure he looked quite silly, but he didn’t particularly care.

‘Hi, Beth.’

He was staring, he knew. He couldn’t really help it.

(He felt a little better about it because she seemed to be doing the same.)

She had warm, light brown eyes that kind of reminded him of Bozer’s super-special hot chocolate. And while he admitted that he’d long lost any ability to be objective about this, she was also gorgeous.

He finally managed to make his mouth work.

Unfortunately, he also blurted out the first thing on his mind.

‘You’re really beautiful.’

His ears reddened, thankfully mostly hidden by his hair, and he kicked himself internally (so much for not letting his hopes get in the way…), as Beth’s cheeks pinked.

‘So are you!’ Her blush darkened and her eyes widened. ‘Oh, you know what I mean…’ She looked very sheepish. ‘I’m not good at this…can we pretend that didn’t happen?’

His own smile widened, and he had the very sudden urge to step forward and kiss her forehead, which he thankfully managed to suppress.

(That would be inappropriate and creepy, even if, given her reaction, his hopes about what they could be seemed to be very much shared and would not get in the way at all.)

Instead, he held out a pinkie.

‘How about we pinkie-promise to never tell anyone else it did?’

She gave a little giggle, and with a smile, held out her own pinkie, and they shook on it.

Then, she looked up at him, tilting her head a little to the side, her smile growing a little shyer.

‘Can I give you a hug?’

In response, he simply held out his arms, still grinning, probably like an idiot. Beth stepped forward and wrapped her own arms around him, a gesture he mirrored, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

_Human beings require physical affection, which, among other things, stimulates the production of oxytocin, the so-called ‘cuddle hormone’, which has many beneficial effects._

_Or, in less scientific language, hugs are great._

* * *

‘…You got kicked out of the Boy Scouts. _You_?’ Beth stared incredulously at him across the table. ‘ _How_? _Why_?’

Coffee and pie had turned into lunch at Mama Colton’s, somehow.

(He was quite sure that the diner’s owner, who insisted everyone called her Mama, was watching him very carefully. He was also quite sure that if he ever hurt Beth or showed any signs of wanting to do so – not that he would, of course – he’d find a shotgun pointed at his face, Mama glaring at him down the barrel. She seemed very protective of her regulars.)

Mac chewed and swallowed his mouthful of delicious sandwich, then spoke, a wry, slightly sheepish smirk on his face.

‘Well, it was more than kicked out, actually. I’m banned from attending any and all Boy Scout activities in any capacity for life.’ Beth just blinked twice at him, apparently stunned into silence, and he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘It all started when I decided I really, really wanted a particular merit badge, and I had a very specific idea as to how I was going to get it…’

* * *

**ARCADE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

Mac watched, an amused smile on his face, as Beth enthusiastically whacked moles.

(Not real moles; Mac was sure she wouldn’t whack real moles, they were playing Whack-a-Mole.)

He grinned as the game ended on a pretty high score. She grinned too and clapped her hands together, and he leaned a little closer to her.

‘Remind me to never get you mad.’

She laughed and shook her head, then shot him a teasing smile.

‘If you get me mad…’ She picked up the Whack-a-Mole mallet again, smile growing more teasing. ‘A rubber mallet will be the least of your worries, Mac.’

_Well, she is a doctor._

_She does have access to lots of sharp objects and the ability to use them expertly on me._

_I’ll just have to try and stay on her good side._

* * *

**BOWLING ALLEY**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

‘That’s the fifth time? _Fifth_?’ Mac just nodded, somewhat smugly. He’d just managed ten strikes in a single game of bowling for the fifth time in his life. Beth glanced between him and the scoreboard, simultaneously impressed, surprised and a little disbelieving, in the way one was when you couldn’t quite believe your eyes. Then, she narrowed her eyes at him a little. ‘Are you secretly an alien or a superhuman?’

Her voice was mostly teasing, though there was a _tiny_ hint of curiosity in there too.

(Mac knew Beth was firmly convinced, like him, that there had to be other life forms out there.)

He chuckled and shook his head, holding his hands up.

‘I’m an ordinary _Homo sapiens_ , I swear! Please don’t dissect me!’

That made her giggle, shaking her head in amusement, then she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face.

‘You are _far_ from ordinary, Mac.’ Her smile grew more wry. ‘And there’ll be no dissecting of any kind, I promise! It would be unethical on many, many levels, and I’m really fond of you in your current state.’

A little voice in Mac’s brain pointed out that he would not mind her conducting a thorough physical examination on him, not at all.

Mac told that voice to shut up immediately.

(It only sort-of listened.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Mac needed an intervention. At least, Jack, Bozer and Penny thought so! All the stuff about ham radio is inspired by a combination of Mac and Jack’s conversation about Jack’s dad and his ham radio in 2.07, Duct Tape + Jack and an episode of the latest season of _NCIS_. And as you all know, Jack winds up being right about the love, marriage and baby in a baby carriage (two, actually)…And yes, Mac and Beth’s first dates always have to be slightly awkward…
> 
> I apologize if you think Jack’s opinion on the importance of physical attraction to total attraction/love is unrealistic; I do not seem to experience attraction in the same way as normal people, so that might be some of it bleeding through! Still, I maintain that since physical attractiveness changes and fades, a good deal of love (if not really essentially all of it) has to do with what’s on the inside.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on 2.13, CO2 Sensor + Tree Branch, at the end of this chapter with spoilers.

**BETH’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

At 8 pm that night, Mac walked with Beth to her front door, hand in hand.

(He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to find the courage to reach out for her hand in the first place, but he had, probably by not exactly thinking about it.)

Their afternoon at the arcade, followed by bowling, had somehow turned into a fairly early dinner, then walking back to her place.

(She’d walked to Mama Colton’s; he’d have to walk back to get his car, but it was a small price to pay for a pleasant walk with her.)

(Besides, his grandfather always said that a gentleman always walked a lady to her front door after a date.)

(This really felt like a date.)

_I know, I know, I said this wasn’t going to be a date last night._

_But you know what they say about best laid plans._

_Besides, I’m not really a plan sort of guy. I’m very much an on-the-fly type of guy; I adapt to the situation._

They stopped outside her door, and a little hesitantly, red-eared under his hair and definitely nervous, Mac glanced over at her.

‘This…this was our first date, wasn’t it?’

Her cheeks turned pink, but she nodded and smiled, an expression that grew wry after a moment.

‘Given that it went for ten hours, I think it was probably also our second…or even third.’

Immediately after she finished speaking, her blush darkened, eyes widening, as Mac’s ears turned redder.

_There is a…significance…attached to third dates._

He shook himself out of it, and spoke, a wry little smirk appearing on his face.

‘Well, if you put it that way…I feel less guilty about asking you this.’ He paused for a moment, locking eyes with her. ‘Can I kiss you?’

Still blushing, she smiled again, soft and sweet, and gave a little nod.

‘Yes, please!’

That made him smile, and he tucked two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up, and did as the lady requested.

_My grandfather firmly insisted that one does not kiss a lady on the lips on a first date._

_But Beth’s logic is sound, and besides, he always said that the most important thing was to respect the lady’s wishes._

_So if the lady wishes it…well, sorry, Grandfather, but I was never good at following rules anyway._

When they broke apart, she looked a little shell-shocked, as if the Earth had shifted a little under her feet.

He was pretty sure he looked that way too, because he certainly felt like it.

She blinked up at him twice, then tilted her head a little to the left and spoke.

‘You really are good at almost everything…’ Her eyes widened and she blushed again, looking sheepish, as a rush of smugness ran through him. ‘I said that out loud, didn’t I? I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud…’

He just nodded and gave a fond little chuckle, before leaning forward and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

‘When can we do that again?’ He paused, and gestured a little awkwardly between them. ‘Well, not just _that,_ but…’

He trailed off a little sheepishly; she knew what he meant.

Beth giggled, then spoke and smiled up at him after shaking her head for a moment.

‘I have Thursday off; we could have dinner on Wednesday?’

He smiled.

‘It’s a date.’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

When Mac got home, in a very, very good mood, he found Jack and Bozer sitting on the couch waiting for him.

Jack tapped the leather wristband on his wrist, as if it were an imaginary watch.

‘You’re home late, young man.’ He tapped his wristband again. ‘It’s past your curfew.’

Bozer jerked a thumb at Jack by way of explanation.

‘He’s been here since 3.’

Mac just nodded slowly, and raised his brows at Jack.

(He knew Jack was here because he wanted to know how his first meeting with Beth went, which Mac was quite sure Jack was thinking of as a date. He was also sure Bozer thought of it the same way.)

_They’re not wrong, not now._

_And I’m pretty sure that the fact I’m home so much later than expected tells them everything they want to know._

_But they’ve never passed up the opportunity to tease me, and they’re not going to start now._

‘I’m twenty-seven, Jack. I don’t have a curfew.’ He shook his head, in a long-suffering, fondly-exasperated manner. ‘It went well. We’re having dinner on Wednesday.’ Jack and Bozer both gave Cheshire-cat grins, and Mac rolled his eyes fondly and reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ‘ _And_ I got ten strikes in a single game of bowling for the fifth time.’

He held out his phone to the duo on the couch, which had a picture of the scoreboard showing the ten strikes, Beth gesturing to it, posed a bit like a gameshow hostess, albeit a slightly-awkward gameshow hostess.

(Mac was well aware that if he didn’t show them a picture of her, they’d nag him until they did, and nag in embarrassing ways to boot, so he figured he’d head them off at the pass.)

Jack and Bozer examined the photo, fond, happy, gentle smiles on their faces.

‘She’s real pretty, son.’

‘You make a cute couple, Mac.’

He, too, smiled, much like his two best friends.

‘Thanks, guys.’ He put his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head and heading to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? Going from a wrong number to…’ He gestured vaguely as he finished filling the glass. ‘…this.’

Bozer and Jack exchanged a look, then Bozer spoke, pointing at Mac and waggling his eyebrows as he did so.

‘It’s gonna be a great story to tell the kids, bro.’

Mac, having just drank from his glass of water, did a spit-take. He spluttered, ears very red, and shot Bozer a very incredulous look.

(Jack did his best to hide his smirk, but failed.)

‘Boze, it is _way, way, way_ too soon to be thinking about kids.’

Quite suddenly, Jack had some sort of flash of foresight, some kind of vague glimpse into the future of sorts. He really, really thought that Mac, in ten or eleven years or so, might well be telling his kids how he met their mom, his right one, because he texted a wrong number, just like he was quite convinced now that Bozer and Riley may well be each other’s right ones, and that maybe, he’d found his right one again.

Still, just because Mac might have found his right one, didn’t mean that Jack was going to let go of this prime opportunity to tease the younger man.

He smirked at the blonde.

‘So, brother, did you kiss her?’

Mac shook his head, still wiping up the water.

‘That’s for me to know, Jack, and you to never find out.’

As Mac turned away to refill his water glass, Bozer leaned over, closer to Jack, and spoke.

‘That means he totally did.’

His back to the duo on the couch, Mac shook his head a little, a small, exasperated, affectionate smile on his face.

_To be fair, they’re not wrong._

_But a gentleman never kisses and tells._

* * *

**RILEY’S RESIDENCE**

**HIGHLAND PARK**

* * *

About three weeks after Mac’s birthday party, Riley opened her front door and stepped out, and locked the door behind her.

She was heading over to Bozer and Mac’s place for a barbecue. She mentally calculated how many people would be there; there was herself, Bozer, Mac, her mom, Jack, Penny and Sam, plus Mac’s girlfriend (whom she only knew as Mac’s lady doctor; for some reason, no-one had ever happened to mention her name in front of her, though Riley supposed it was a pretty moot point, since she’d find out shortly). She was a hopeless cook (though slightly better now, thanks to Bozer’s lessons), and bringing store-bought food to a barbecue primarily catered by Bozer would just make her boyfriend go on a crazy (but oddly cute) rant, so she was going to bring beer.

At the same time, her neighbour’s door opened, and Beth stepped out, wearing a pretty blue and white floral sundress and holding a freezer bag containing a couple of square boxes.

Riley smiled and waved at her neighbour as they both walked down the stairs.

‘Heading out?’

Beth nodded with a smile.

‘Yes, I’m going to my boyfriend’s place for a barbecue.’ She held up the freezer bag as they walked down the stairs. ‘I made peach pie. Or, well, peach pies, more accurately.’ Then, her expression grew more nervous. ‘I’m meeting his family for the first time.’

Riley gestured with her head towards the bag containing the pies, her smile reassuring and a little more wry.

‘If your peach pie’s as good as your blueberry or apple…they’ll love you.’

That made Beth give a little laugh.

‘Thanks, Riley. Where are you heading?’

They reached the bottom of the stairs and walked out to the carpark.

‘Also to my boyfriend’s for a barbecue.’

Beth tilted her head to the side a little, and stopped as they’d reached her car.

‘That’s a weird coincidence.’

Riley nodded in agreement, continuing to head for her own car.

‘Yeah. See you, Beth!’

‘See you!’

* * *

**MACGYVER’S RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

Walking up to Bozer and Mac’s place, Riley knocked on the door, and it was opened a moment later by her boyfriend, grinning and wearing a cheesy apron that said _Kiss the Cook._

Shaking her head, an eyebrow quirked in amused, fond exasperation, she stepped into the entryway and followed the instructions.

Afterwards, as she headed towards the kitchen, following Bozer, to put the beer in the fridge (they’d put it into Mac’s self-opening, walking Esky later), Riley stopped in her tracks as the door to the deck slid open and someone stepped inside.

(It was rather smoky outside, which she was pretty sure had to be Mac’s fault, which obscured most of the deck from view.)

‘Bozer, Mac’s put out the fire, and he’s fixed the problem that caused it, you can put the burgers on the grill-‘

The young doctor stopped in her tracks too when she saw Riley, who finally managed to find her voice.

‘Beth?’

‘Riley?’

They stared at each other for a moment, then both glanced at Bozer, who looked a bit like a deer caught in headlights.

‘You two know each other?’

At that moment, Mac stepped inside as well, a little grease- and soot-stained, wiping his hands on an old towel.

He stopped just inside the living room and glanced between the three of them, who were all standing there, looking befuddled and shocked and generally stupefied.

Beth glanced at him, then, by matter of explanation, gestured between herself and Riley.

‘Riley and I are neighbours.’

Mac and Bozer just glanced at each other.

‘Bro, how have we never mentioned each other’s girlfriend’s names to our respective girlfriends?’

Mac just shrugged helplessly, as if to say _I don’t know._

_And here’s yet another improbable coincidence._

_I’m really half-convinced now that Beth might have a point about something causing all this improbability, even if I don’t think that something is me, and even if she was joking at the time._

Meanwhile, Beth was blinking rapidly, while Riley muttered under her breath. Mac’s own brain started unwittingly calculating the odds of all these coincidences happening, and all three of them stood there talking half to themselves and half at each other, all over one another.

‘...The odds of all this happening are astronomically small; I know it sounds impossible, Mac, but I really think you’re somehow causing improbable events to increase in frequency in my life. My life was ordinary until I met you!’

‘...This is ridiculous. There are literally millions of people in this city…’

‘…Given the population of LA, the probability of that…and then, taking into account the number of digits…’ Mac made a face and shook his head. ‘…the odds are just too small and there’s far too many variables to even try and compute this.’

Riley and Beth had fallen silent just before Mac spoke that last sentence, and they nodded wryly in agreement.

Meanwhile, Bozer knew he had absolutely no hope of calculating the odds of these improbable coincidences all occurring.

He also had absolutely no hope of even understanding half of Mac, Beth or Riley’s logic and math.

He was no genius, not in that sense, but he could also do some pretty genius things with burgers, even if he said so himself.

And in the end, he thought, it didn’t really matter how they’d all met, did it?

Only that they _had._

Besides, he was hungry, and he was pretty sure they were too.

(Bozer had read somewhere that the brain used a lot of calories.)

(That, he thought, was probably why Mac’s metabolism was so fast.)

So, he pulled the tray of burgers he’d lovingly prepared earlier out of the fridge and held them out with a grin.

‘You guys want some _improbably_ good burgers?’

The terrible pun elicited a groan from Riley, while Mac put his hand on his forehead in a long-suffering way (he already had to put up with Jack’s puns, he did _not_ want to hear more from Bozer), and Beth shook her head with a little smile.

But after that, they all nodded eagerly in agreement, and Bozer smirked, looking rather smug.

Yeah, this whole situation was ridiculously improbable.

But he stood by what he’d said to Mac three weeks ago: it would be a great story to tell the kids one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s almost all folks, just an epilogue to go now! 
> 
> Thoughts on 2.13, CO2 Sensor + Tree Branch: You know, I was a little sceptical about this episode when I heard the premise – no Jack with the team? Mac, who despite being kicked out of the Boy Scouts, is very much a Boy Scout (with a Boy Scout’s sense of morality, except maybe in terms of petty-theft-to-save-the-world), had a fling? But I was really, really pleasantly surprised! It was a great, fun ep; I like how they addressed things they’d brought up in previous eps (the origin of Mac’s Swiss Army knife, Mac’s dad, Matty’s involvement, Zoe), and it was a nice little parallel with Mac and Jack’s respective situations, too. I’m not convinced I actually like Allie very much as a person, but I do like the way they dealt with what happened between her and Mac; I found it rather realistic and respectful to the characters and their characterization – she apologized, Mac still cares, because he’s Mac, she acknowledges that she has issues with being hypercompetitive, but I don’t get the sense that there’s still anything romantic between them (even if Allie still likes him, my read is that she seems to accept that Mac’s not really keen – unsurprising, given the parallels between her and Nikki…) 
> 
> In terms of Cage – she’s going home to Australia, which doesn’t shock me, but what’s happening with her? Are they writing her out of the show? Is Isabel Lucas leaving? Or does she have some other commitment and need to take some episodes off?


	15. Epilogue

**MACGYVER FAMILY RESIDENCE**

**PASADENA**

* * *

‘…and that, kids, is how I met your mom.’

Mac smiled at his two children, his story finally complete (it’d taken a while, since they’d stopped in the middle when the cookies were done to examine the results of their experiment and draw some conclusions), then looked up at his wife, who’d come into the living room just in time to hear the very end of the story, his smile growing more wry and closer to a smirk.

Beth just shook her head with a fond smile, walking into the kitchen, and Nick looked up at her, a little wide-eyed.

‘Did that really all happen, Mom? All those really, really unlikely coincidences?’

She nodded.

‘They did all happen, unlikely as it was.’

Beth reached out and ruffled Nick’s hair gently, then rearranged it back to how he liked it, which made the blonde little boy beam.

Maria tilted her head to the left, looking remarkably like her mother, before speaking, brow furrowed.

‘Grandpa Jack thinks it’s Fate, doesn’t he?’ She looked even more confused. ‘Grandpa Jack says lots of weird things, doesn’t he? He told me that most babies are delivered by stork, but MacGyver babies are delivered by drone…I don’t know if I should believe him. Should I believe him?’ Her eyes got very wide and she looked every inch her four years. ‘Being delivered by drone wouldn’t have been fun! Not at all!’

(Maria was scared of both heights and flying, even if she’d only been on a plane once.)

Mac and Beth glanced at each other, both sighing internally in a very exasperated, long-suffering, yet also fond way, then Mac turned to his daughter.

‘Well, why don’t you ask Grandpa Jack how MacGyver babies are delivered in front of Auntie Sam tonight? That way, she can tell you if he’s telling the truth.’

Maria’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together happily. Nick looked eager to see Sam use her ‘powers’ too.

(All the kids adored their Auntie Sam, and not just because she was the Queen of Halloween; since she was basically a human lie detector and stopped bad guys for a living, they all firmly insisted that she was a bona-fide superhero with superpowers.)

Beth, meanwhile, just shot Mac a _look_ over their children’s heads.

_Yes, I know, I’m essentially setting my kids on Jack to make him uncomfortable._

_But A, he deserves it for convincing my daughter that she was delivered by drone, which is going to lead to so many awkward questions later, and B, when have I ever passed up an opportunity to pull one on Jack?_

He just gave a slightly sheepish little smirk, and she shook her head, an affectionate, exasperated smile on her face. Then, she raised her brows as she took in the sheer volume of cookies in the kitchen.

Mac rubbed the back of his neck (yeah, he’d probably gotten carried away…), and shrugged.

‘We’ve got a lot of people coming…’

That was true: Bozer, Riley and Hedy, and Jack and Diane, plus Penny and her husband Aaron (a Canadian accountant whom Bozer and Mac had strongly disliked initially but had warmed up to eventually), their twins, and their new baby, as well as Matty (who had become closer to Bozer and Riley after both had been promoted), Patricia (Jack’s training buddy and friend who’d changed Riley’s life had been inevitably pulled into their improvised family) and Sam.

Maria piped up.

‘And they’re really yummy!’ She pointed at a particular tray. ‘These ones are my favourite! They have baking powder in them.’ She screwed up her face in concentration, sounding out the longer, trickier words slowly. ‘That has sodium bicarbonate and acidic salts in them, so when the cookies are in the oven, there’s a chemical reaction that makes them rise!’

Beth smiled proudly, and reached out to tuck a lock of her daughter’s hair back behind her ear, before leaning down a little to be closer to the kids’ eye level.

‘Alright, do you two want to help Daddy with the grill, or help me finish the pies and plate up these cookies?’

Nick grinned.

‘Pie!’

Maria clapped her hands together and eagerly hopped down from her stool.

‘Grill!’

Nick handed his dad back his Swiss Army knife, which Mac pocketed, then hurried over to the sink to wash his hands before helping his mom, while Mac reached down and took his daughter’s hand and led her out onto the deck so that they could get the grill going.

* * *

‘…Now, we have to be really, really careful. We don’t want another incident, do we?’

Maria looked very seriously up at him, having obediently sat down a safe distance away from the grill to observe.

‘Mommy doesn’t like it when things catch fire.’

* * *

‘Hey, kiddos, look what your favourite grandpa brought you!’

Jack, holding a large box that contained things like the cardboard inserts in toilet paper rolls and old shirts, waltzed into the house, followed by Diane, smiling one of her little, exasperatedly-loving smiles.

(After Bozer, Riley and Hedy, they were the second ‘sub-family’ of their family to arrive.)

Mac, Bozer, Beth and Riley all exchanged an exasperated, yet affectionate, look, as Hedy, Nick and Maria all ran eagerly up to Jack, who put the box down. Hedy hugged him tightly, while Nick started rummaging through the box. His sister poked him in the arm and narrowed her eyes at him, and the blonde boy stopped rummaging and looked up at Jack, a bit sheepish, as Hedy pulled away from her grandfather and glanced at her two younger friends. Then, all three children grinned up at Jack and spoke in unison.

‘Thank you, Grandpa Jack!’

He, too, grinned, and crouched down, ignoring his protesting knees, ruffling the hair of all three kids in turn.

‘ _Grandpa Jack_!’

All three of them made surprisingly identical faces at him, and Jack chuckled fondly, then gestured at the box.

‘You’re welcome, kiddos. Now go make something awesome!’

Nick and Hedy grabbed one end of the box each, Maria grabbing a T-shirt and two toilet rolls from the very top to help, and ran out onto the deck, all three with distinctive _I-have-an-idea_ faces. Beth, after waving hello to the older couple, followed them to supervise.

Jack and Diane made their way into the kitchen, and Mac reached into the fridge and grabbed them both a drink, opening the beers with his Swiss Army knife before handing them over. Bozer just crossed his arms and shot Jack a look, after glancing at both his wife and his BFF.

‘How come you never brought us presents like that, man?’

Jack was definitely doing an excellent job of being a spoiling, indulgent grandparent.

The older man shook his head with an expression somewhere between a little smirk and a fond grin, gesturing with his beer bottle out at the children playing on the deck.

‘You guys ain’t nowhere as adorable as your little rugrats.’

Mac, Bozer and Riley just glanced at each other, then nodded in agreement, before Mac spoke.

‘Well, you’ve got us there.’

* * *

_This, right here?_

_This is the life; I’ve got it all._

_You know, I don’t really believe in luck._

_I think, most of the time, we make our own luck._

_But even all these years later, I can’t explain all those improbable coincidences that ultimately gave me this._

_I guess it really was just my luck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for sticking with this story to the end! I really enjoyed writing this one, and it’s honestly one of the stories that I’m proudest of, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Starting from tomorrow, I’ve got another multi-chap fic going up, _The Stone-Hearted Queen._
> 
> The summary is as follows: ‘There’s a storm outside, they got nowhere to go, and they’re just kids, Patty, you gotta let them stay!’ Orphaned, hunted and desperate, Mac, Bozer and Riley seek refuge in the home of a cursed Queen, said to have a heart of stone. After befriending the castle’s also-cursed inhabitants, they try to break the curse…by helping the Queen and her Captain of the Guard fall in love.
> 
> It’s a fairytale!AU, a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, featuring Knight!Jack, Queen!Thornton, Teenage blacksmith!Mac, Teenage tailor!Bozer, Teenage witch!Riley, Spymaster!Matty, Spymaster’s apprentice!Cage and Healer!Beth. (It’s arguably also the weirdest fic I’ve ever written, but give it a chance?) 
> 
> There’ll also be another update to _Two Paperclips and a Stick of Gum_ , probably the day after tomorrow, depending on how the editing goes.

**Author's Note:**

> Have some dad!Mac and hereditary MacGyver-ness! (Though, if you’re familiar with my stories, you’ll know that not all of the mad-scientist-ness comes from Mac’s side…) 
> 
> And yes, the kids are named after various scientists. Nick is named after Tesla (his full name is Nicholas Harry MacGyver, my oft-repeated headcanon name for Mac’s son), Maria is named after Marie Curie, and Hedy is named after Hedy Lamarr, who both invented frequency jumping (a precursor of Wi-Fi) and was a famous actress (appropriate for Bozer and Riley’s daughter, no?).


End file.
